Oblivious
by plinker5x5
Summary: An alternate version of Deathly Hallows, diverging from the trio's time at Grimmauld Place. Hermione discovers that the last six years didn't happen exactly as she and Harry remember. H/Hr. Story not abandoned! Here comes the next chapter!
1. Chapter 1

_ A/N: All the standard disclaimers apply. This is a fan-fiction, set in a world and using characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling. It's just a fantasy of my own distorted mind, borrowing Rowling's fictional world and those who inhabit it for my own, and hopefully my readers', pleasure. Since I don't plann on making any money from this, I don't think any copyright laws are violated._

_The Setting: 12 Grimmauld Place, two weeks after Bill and Fleur's wedding, the fall of the ministry, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione's escape from the Death Eaters._

Chapter One

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He and Hermione were in the Black family library at 12 Grimmauld Place, scouring the decidedly dark collection of magical references for any clues on how to destry horcruxes. The high-ceilinged room was dark and musty, despite having thrown back the heavy curtains on the tall window in the middle of the bookcase-lined wall. Sunlight just didn't seem to want to penetrate the gloom. It didn't help that they were researching evil magic. Harry sat in an overstuffed chair while Hermione had curled up on her legs on a sofa across the room, a stack of books as tall as she was on the floor next to her. Ron was off, who knows where, probably either sneaking a nap or scrounging for a snack in the kitchen. He didn't have the head for book research.

Sighing, Harry replaced his glasses and bent over the large, musty volume on his lap. For the fifth time in as many minutes he tried to decipher a passage that seemed to be about horcruxes, but he just couldn't understand the flowery, old English script. "Hermione," he said, finally giving up and turning to someone he trusted to know just about everything. "What does it mean when they say…" He stopped midsentence in frightened surprise when he looked over to the sofa at his bushy haired best friend. "Hermione!" he shouted, leaping towards her while drawing his wand. The teenaged girl in question was standing next to the sofa with a dazed look on her face and a couple dozen glowing orbs of light floating about her head.

"It's OK," she said quickly, shushing him with her hand. "Quick, how many are there!" Confused, but obedient, Harry started counting the orbs circling her head. Gradually they began to fade away until they were completely gone. "How many did you see?" Hermione asked Harry urgently.

"Twenty seven."

"That's what I got, too." She sat down on the sofa, wringing her hands and biting her lower lip with worry.

"What's going on, Hermione? What was all that about?" Harry asked softly, kneeling in front of her, confused and concerned.

Hermione took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself down. "I found this book on memory charms," she pointed at the open book on the top of the tall stack next to the sofa. "I thought maybe it would help with when, or if, I ever get to restore my parents' memories." Harry nodded, a sad look on his face. He knew how great a sacrifice his friend had made to join him on this, so far, pointless quest of Dumbledore's. She continued, "Did you know that obliviated memories aren't really erased, as such? Instead they are sort of folded in on themselves so that they can't be accessed, but they are still there, in the obliviated person's mind." She held her hands out flat, as if holding a memory, then folded them over themselves to hide her palms from sight. Harry nodded again, not really know, but urging her to continue. He wondered what all this had to do with the orbs. "Anyway," she continued after another sigh. "I found a spell that reveals how many erased memories a person has in their head. It displays a glowing light for each folded memory." He sat back on his heels, absorbing what she had just said. A few silent moments passed as they stared at each other. "Harry, I've been obliviated twenty seven times!" she cried, tears starting to well in her eyes.

"Oh my God," Harry exclaimed, leaning forward to pull her into what he hoped was a reassuring hug. "Who? What? When?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!" she cried mournfully. They held each other for several minutes in shocked and fearful silence. "Harry? I think I should do the spell on you, too." Separating, he leaned back and nodded his reluctant agreement.

"What do you want me to do?" he said, suddenly afraid of finding out what the spell would reveal.

"Just hold still," she answered, raising her wand slowly and muttering an incantation. Instantly Harry's head was surrounded by orbs of light. Shocked for a moment, he remembered to start counting.

"Forty nine!" both he and Hermione said at the same time. The orbs faded away and the two teens stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, after a few stunned minutes of contemplation. "Is there any way to recover a memory obliviated by someone else?"

"Y-yes," she nodded, turning to the book and flipping a few pages forward. "But it's not easy and can be dangerous. There's a series of spells that can unfold the memory. It has to be done one at a time. It sounds like it might be painful. And if you do it wrong, you can lose more memories than you get back."

"Do it to me," Harry stated, more of a command than a request.

Hermione looked at him, biting her lower lip again, then said firmly. "No."

"What?" Harry said, taken aback. "Hermione, we have to get those memories back!"

"I know," she said, "But I want you to do it to me first." She held up her hand to stop the objections that were about to burst from his mouth. "We need to see if it's going to work, if we're doing it right. My memories are less important than yours."

"I disagree!" Harry said vehemently. "You're the brains of this operation, Hermione. You always have been. I would be lost without you. You have to do me first."

"Thanks," she smiled at his compliment, "but I'm not the Chosen One. You are. You're the one who has a destiny and a prophecy to fulfill. I'm just the swotty sidekick."

"You're more than that," he insisted taking her hand and looking into her brown eyes, meaning every word he said.

"Nonetheless," she gasped confused at his declaration, tearing her eyes away from his dazzling green gaze. "I'll show you how to do it, but won't do it to you until after you've done it to me. If that makes any sense." Harry looked like he wanted to argue some more, but he finally sighed and gave in. Together they leaned over the book and read and re-read the passage describing the obliviation counter-spell. As Hermione had indicated, they had to go after each memory separately, and it wasn't going to be easy for either of them.

"Ready?" He asked several minutes later, after much discussion and several rounds of wandless practice. She nodded and cast the memory-revealing spell again, her head surrounded by glowing orbs. Harry chose one at random, and lifting his wand, began the counter-spell. Hermione gasped and winced in pain, then she reached up and touched her lips with her hand, and smiled.

"Oh Harry! You won't believe what that was a memory of!" she exclaimed. "Keep going! Do another!"

He picked another orb and repeated the spell. This one seemed to hurt Hermione more, but she urged him to continue. After the tenth one, she buckled at the knees and Harry grabbed her around the waist and lowered her to the sofa. Lying back, she whispered, "Don't stop."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned.

She nodded, "Definitely, my love." She gripped his hand and braced herself for the next round of painful counter-spells.

_My love?_ Harry wondered, but setting aside his confusion at her comment, he pointed his wand and continued. Hermione moaned in pain and arched her back. Each memory recovered seemed to be more painful than the next. There were only six left and she was gasping and writhing on the sofa underneath him, her fingers digging into his arms.

"Bloody hell!" came a shout and a crash from the doorway. "Stop, Harry! What are you doing to Hermione!" Ron had dropped the plate of sandwiches and bottle of butterbeer in his hands and was rushing toward Harry. There was the fire of rage in his eyes at the sight of his best friend pointing a wand at the head of his girlfriend, who was obviously in pain.

"Petrificus Totalis!" Ron stopped midstride and straightened up, stiff as a board, his arms to his side and legs stuck together. He fell over backwards with a loud thud. Surprised, Harry looked down to see Hermione's wand hand pointed around him at Ron. She had risen to her elbows and sent the spell to stop him.

"Don't ask," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll explain later. Just finish!" She lay back and grabbed Harry's arm. "Finish it!" she commanded forcefully. Harry complied, more confused than ever. When the last memory restoration spell was finally complete, Hermione sat up and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. She was sobbing freely. After a few minutes, she leaned back and looked him in the eyes, with a look he had never seen her give him before, a look he'd seen just a tiny glimpse of when she looked at Ron. She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Not just a peck between friends, but a passionate, insistent kiss, like no kiss he had ever gotten from any girl before.

"Hermione, what the…" he started when she finally leaned back. She smiled and put her finger on his lips, shushing him.

"Seventeen," she said enigmatically.

"What? Seventeen what?" he gasped, still shaken by the kiss.

"That was our seventeenth first kiss," she said, with a grin and a giggle.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: All the standard disclaimers still apply. A fluffy chapter, raising more questions than answers._

Chapter Two

"Hermione, are you OK?" Harry asked, concerned that he didn't do the spells right and his best friend was now brain damaged. Why else would she have kissed him so passionately? And what was that about seventeen first kisses?

"Yes," she said, jumping up. "You did the spells perfectly, Harry! I remember everything, although it's still quite confusing. All jumbled up in my head." She frowned slightly, rubbing her forehead. "I'll need some time to re-integrate my memories into a single coherent timeline, but… Oh Harry, wait until you remember it all, too." She was gushing now, with a huge smile on her face. "Lie back and I'll restore your memories."

"But Hermione, I don't…" he was reluctant, afraid, and still very confused.

"Harry," she asked, holding him by the shoulders and looking directly into his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

He nodded slowly. "Of course I trust you, Hermione. I trust you completely," he said with heartfelt conviction.

"Then lie back."

Ten minutes and forty nine memories later, they sat on the sofa facing each other holding hands. Looking each other in the eyes, they smiled broadly. By mutual, but unspoken, agreement they tested each other's newly recovered memories, thinking that might help with what Hermione called "timeline re-integration".

"Do you remember our first kiss?" Hermione asked, almost shyly. "Our real first one?"

Harry frowned for a moment, then his green eyes brightened and he said, "First year! In the dungeons, when we were looking for the Philosopher's Stone. In that room with Snape's potions riddle that you solved. There was only enough of the right potion for me to go on. I told you to go back and help Ron and send for Dumbledore. You hugged me and called me a great wizard. You told me that there were more important things than books and cleverness, like bravery and friendship and…"

"And love," Hermione finished. "Then I did the bravest thing I'd ever done in my twelve years. I kissed you! On the mouth!" Blushing furiously, she leaned forward and kissed him again, just as she had almost six years earlier.

"I was gobsmacked," Harry laughed, "and one totally confused eleven year old boy. I'd never been kissed by anyone before. But your kiss was enough to let me go on. I was so scared that I was going to die. When you kissed me I knew I had something worth living for!" He paused, "Why would they obliviate that memory?"

"I don't know," Hermione said shaking her head. "It was such a beautiful, innocent moment."

Harry smiled and leaned in to kiss her again. "Do you remember the second first kiss we had?" he asked.

"Second year," Hermione responded immediately. "I was in the hospital ward, petrified from looking at the basilisk in the mirror. You came by every day and sat with me. I couldn't move, but I remember every word you said, every caress you gave my hands, my face, and my hair." She ran a hand through her bushy curls, remembering his touch. "You were so sweet. You talked about the classes I was missing and read me the notes you took. Then one night I remember you telling me how much I meant to you and how much you missed me. When no one was looking, you leaned over me and kissed me!"

"I didn't know you knew about that!" It was Harry's turn to blush. "I was thinking about later, after you woke up and you ran up to me and Ron in the Great Hall. We hugged and kissed right there in front of everyone!"

"Again, why would they get rid of that?" she wondered. "They must have had to obliviate the entire school!" She and Harry looked at each other in confusion. Then Hermione got a sly glint in her smoky brown eyes and asked, "Remember our next first kiss, third year?"

Harry thought a moment, then turned red again. He nodded, "After we rescued Sirius and Buckbeak. That wasn't just a kiss, Hermione, that was a thirty minute, all out snogging session, courtesy your time turner!"

"I guess we somehow realized we were making up for lost time!" she laughed. "I seem to remember more than one snog session with the time turner before that school year ended. And I remember coming to visit you at the Dursley's that summer! Mum and Dad drove me over. Your aunt and uncle weren't happy, but they behaved civilly in front of my parents, at least after they found out they're dentists." She frowned, "That was when _they_ showed up…"

"Dumbledore and McGonagall," Harry spat out.

Hermione nodded, getting angry, too, "They obliviated all of us and sent me and my parents home as if we never came over… Oh Harry, I don't understand why they wouldn't leave us be!"

"I don't either, my love." Harry said scornfully, shaking his head. Suddenly he started laughing. At Hermione's quizzical look, he explained, "If I remember rightly, back at Hogwarts after that summer we became a real handful for them."

"We got together again while preparing you for the Triwizard Tournament! I remember! They obliviated us twice before the first task! And again right after! We kept falling for each other! You even asked me to the Yule Ball!"

"Three times!" Harry laughed.

"And I said yes every time!" Hermione exclaimed. Her brow furrowed, "So what was all that with Krum about? And Ron being jealous?"

Harry shrugged. "And then we got together yet again, after the second task in the lake. I was supposed to rescue Ron, but it was you I really wanted to rescue! And I did! But Snape was under water with us! He made it look like Krum got to you first and made me go back for Ron! And they added me rescuing Fleur's sister Gabrielle to cover why I was under for so long…"

Hermione shook her head before exclaiming, "We tried to get together again that next summer! You took the Knight Bus over to my house a few days after holiday started!"

"I was still upset about Cedric dying. You held me while I…while I cried," Harry admitted reluctantly. "Your parents let us be after you explained what happened at school. You know, " he paused, looking into Hermione's eyes again with a smile, "I really like your parents."

"They like you, too, Harry." Hermione returned the smile. "When they can remember you at least. I remember we were crying and comforting each other in my room when Dumbledore showed up and wiped it all away again. He sent me here to Grimmauld Place to be with Sirius and the Weasleys and the Order for the rest of the summer. We weren't allowed to contact you at all."

"I was so angry," Harry. "I thought everyone abandoned me. I felt so alone and left out. I even yelled at you when I was finally allowed to come here. I'm so sorry, Hermione."

She smiled and hugged him, kissing his forehead. "It's not your fault. It's Dumbledore's. So, do you think the entire Order was in on it?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head, thinking. "I don't think Sirius would have put up with it at least, or Lupin. I do remember being obliviated by Dumbledore and McGonagall, of course. Then there was Snape, several times. Those occulamency lessons fifth year were just an excuse to rummage around in my mind and erase things he and Dumbledore didn't like. I also remember at least one time by Moody and another by Mrs. Weasley, and…" He turned his head sharply to look at their petrified friend on the floor.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione between gritted teeth, pulling her wand out angrily.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: All the standard disclaimers still, and always will apply. _

Chapter Three

Hermione and Harry jumped up and stared daggers at Ron, still lying petrified on the floor.

"He obliviated me at least three times in the last year!" Hermione screeched. She snapped up her wand toward the stiff redhead and his body levitated and rotated to a vertical position. Ron had heard everything they said. He couldn't move, but his eyes were wide and darting back and forth between Harry and Hermione in terror.

"Accio!" Hermione spat out, and Ron's wand flew from his pocket to her hand. They were surprised when, a fraction of a second later, they heard a ripping noise and from a newly torn hole in Ron's trouser leg flew another wand. Astonished, Hermione grabbed it in mid-air and looked questioningly at Harry, who shook his head with equal surprise.

"Incarcerous!" snapped Harry turning back to Ron. Ropes shot from the end of his wand to wrap Ron's lanky body from neck to feet.

"Ennervate," Hermione cast at Ron's head.

"Don't kill me!" the redhead shouted, nearly sobbing. "I was only following orders!"

Harry and Hermione walked up to the bound, floating teen and stuck their wands in his face. "Famous last words for a traitor," spat Hermione.

"No! No! I'm not a traitor! I'm your best friend! I'm one of the good guys!" gasped Ron desperately.

"Hermione," Harry asked without taking his eyes or wand off Ron. "Do you happen to have any Veritaserum in that beaded bag of yours?" She smiled and nodded, walking over to the desk where her bag was sitting. A moment later they had forced some of the truth potion down Ron's throat and stuck their wands back in his face.

"OK, Ronald," hissed Hermione. "Why were Harry's and my memories obliviated?"

Ron looked like he wanted to keep his mouth shut, but the Veritaserum prevented that. "Everything was according to Dumbledore's plan. We did it to help fight You-Know-Who."

"Explain how keeping Hermione and me from falling in love helped fight Him," shouted Harry.

"Explain how obliviating any memories of kissing Harry furthered the cause!" snarled Hermione almost on top of Harry's shout.

"Explain how making sure my life was devoid of even a shred of happiness or love could ever be considered a good thing!" hissed Harry, pushing his wand deeper into Ron's cheek.

Hermione turned to Harry with a gasp and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, still keeping her wand pressed up against Ron's long nose. "You are loved, Harry," she whispered into his ear. He nodded slowly in acknowledgment, but kept his fierce green eyes on Ron's scarlet face.

"OK, OK," stammered Ron. "He said it was for the 'greater good'. I don't understand it completly myself, but Dumbledore seemed to think that if he let you fall in love with anyone, you wouldn't be able to go through with stopping You-Know-Who."

"Wouldn't be able?" asked Hermione.

"Wouldn't be willing," said Harry in a deadpan voice. Hermione looked at him questioningly. He took his eyes off Ron and met her worried, chocolate brown gaze. "I'm supposed to be willing to die when I finally face him. That's what the prophecy meant. '_Neither can live while the other survives.' _I have to go to my death in order to defeat him."

"And Dumbledore didn't think you'd do that if you had someone you truly wanted to live for," said Ron, nodding excitedly. Since the potion had loosened his tongue, he seemed eager to talk, volunteering information beyond specific questioning.

"Oh my God, Harry!" Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the neck before bursting into sobs on his shoulder.

Harry hugged her back and murmured reassuring noises into her bushy brown hair, "Don't worry love, we'll figure out how to do it despite the prophecy."

"Exactly," said Ron looking at his two friends hold each other tightly. "If you were in love with Hermione, you wouldn't be willing to risk as much or sacrifice yourself and you couldn't beat You-Know-Who. So Dumbledore wanted to make sure you and she weren't able to be a couple. But, by Merlin's curly nose hairs, you two…you seemed determined to always wind up in each other's arms. Every time the Order thought we had diverted you, we'd turn around and there you'd be falling in love again, kissing, cuddling, snogging each other's brains out, and then fifth year you actually became…"

"Lovers!" gasped Hermione, putting both hands over her mouth and turning bright red from nose to ears. Harry turned red, too, but had a dazed happy look on his face as the corresponding memories clicked into place in his mind. "But we were only fifteen and sixteen years old!" Hermione continued in disbelief at her own actions.

"Yeah," said Ron somewhat snidely. "That was a bit of a shocker. Harry I can understand, since he's a bloke, but who would have thought Hermione Granger would turn out to be such a…"

"Watch it, Weasley," growled Harry warningly.

"Um…" Ron chose his next words with more care. "We all wondered about your, um, enthusiastic rush toward 'early achievement'. McGonagall thought it had something to do with the continued repression of the memories of falling in love with each other. She said it was like holding back a flood, so that the next time it happened, the dam would burst quicker, with more force. Dumbledore, of course, just poo-pooed any such theories."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then concluded, "Professor McGonagall's idea makes sense. Our subconcious minds still knew we were in love, even though our concious memories of it were obliviated. But somewhere in our minds we knew that something was preventing our love. So each time we fell for each other, we fell harder and faster than ever, in compensation. If she's right, it was inevitable that Dumbledore's plan would backfire."

"Anyway, you two shagged like rabbits that year," said Ron, shaking his head. "I caught you in the Room of Requirement going at it. McGonagall caught you out behind the Quidditch Pitch. Snape came across you in a broom cupboard. Hagrid even stumbled on you in the Forbidden Forest." Harry and Hermione shared a look as the memory of that particularly enthusiastic outdoor encounter flashed before their eyes.

Ron continued, "Every time they obliviated you, within a few months you'd be getting all lovey-dovey again. The Headmaster and others were getting really tired of it. That's when they made me a full member of the Order of the Phoenix and taught me the memory charm. We tried to distract you with Cho, Harry. And we encouraged Hermione to run with her Dumbledore's Army concept to keep both of your minds occupied. But you two just kept getting back together, no matter what we did to stop it."

Harry nodded, remembering his questionable attempts at dating Cho fifth year, and their disasterous Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade. Then he smiled, realizing it was because of his undeniable feelings for Hermione that everything with Cho always fell apart.

"But why didn't the Order just totally separate us?" Hermione asked the obvious question. "I mean, they could have sent me to another school, like Beauxbatons. Or, since I'm a muggleborn, they could have just broken my wand and obliviated me about magic completely. They could have forced me to live a muggle life, away from Harry forever."

"Believe me, that was suggested…frequently. Especially by Snape," said Ron. "But Dumbledore wouldn't hear of it. He really did think of you as the brightest witch of any age, Hermione. He didn't think Harry could survive to kill You-Know-Who without your brains around. No offense, Harry." Harry simply shrugged and nodded in agreement, causing Hermione to blush even redder. "I got the feeling that Dumbledore was a little in awe of you, Hermione. I overheard him telling McGonagall one time that you were able to do things even he hadn't figured out until years after finishing at Hogwarts. I think he wanted to train you as his replacement."

"To be Headmaster of Hogwarts?" beamed Hermione, in mixed disbelief and pride.

"More than that, he wanted you to be the next leader of all free wizardry. To be the next Dumbledore in everything: Hogwarts, the Wizengamot, the Order of the Phoenix, all of it." Ron let that sink in for a moment, then continued. "When you finally and truly rejected Cho, Harry, and went back to Hermione yet again, the Order had to get really creative. We had an emergency meeting. That's when we came up with the idea that Hermione should fall for me, and Harry should fancy Ginny. Actually, it was all Mum's idea, but Dumbledore liked it. He was still convinced what was between you was just hormones and thought that if you had someone else to um…_be_ with, then your desire for each other would fade."

"How was I supposed to be falling for you when all you did most of last year was suck Lav-Lav's face," questioned Hermione ruefully.

"You were jealous, weren't you?" asked Ron. "Dumbledore had your food spiked with Amortentia so you'd fall in love with me, but then had me get together with Lavender to make you completely jealous. It re-inforces the love potion effects for you to want me, but not be able to have me. We did the same to you, Harry, but aimed at Ginny. Don't you remember how suddenly jealous of Dean you were, just out of the blue?"

Harry and Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Then Hermione smiled, as another memory fell into place. "But it didn't work completely as planned, did it? I went to Harry for consolation and we wound up falling for each other! Even going so far as becoming lovers again!"

"Didn't any of you ever start to get the idea that maybe Hermione and I are destined to be together?" asked Harry shaking his head.

"That's what we all told Dumbledore, over and over again," said Ron with a sigh. "But he wouldn't have any of it. Despite being who he is, I don't think he really understood love. He just blamed it all on youth and raging hormones."

"I guess in a twisted way his plan makes sense," admitted Hermione reluctantly.

Ron nodded, thinking her admission meant approval. "Exactly! He needed you two together because you make an unbeatable team, You-Know-Who doesn't stand a chance against you. But you couldn't be, you know, _together_, because that would distract Harry from his destiny. In the meantime the Order was making sure you got the training you needed to do the job, without letting you know too much, of course."

"Of course," grunted Harry. "Dumbledore was always about secrets and control, wasn't he?" Hermione nodded in agreement, scowling.

"After Dumbledore died," continued Ron hesitantly, seeing the look in her eyes, "the Order decided to keep his plan going. Harry, you actually helped by doing the noble thing and breaking off with Ginny to dedicate himself to the war. That surprised us all. It showed great power to resist the love potion, even after we upped the dose. But I guess it made sense since you knew that Hermione would be going with you wherever you went, and she was the one you really loved. Anyway, my orders were to stick with both of you whatever happened. My job was to keep Hermione distracted from falling for you again and to keep you, Harry, focused on finding and destroying the horcruxes."

"So you continued to give us Amortentia and obliviated us when things got too cozy between us?" Harry asked. Ron just nodded. Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, having a silent conversation with their eyes. Ron frowned. He hated it when they did that.

"So, was everyone in the Order involved?" asked Harry, worried about the answer.

"No," said Ron. "Only a core group knew the whole plan."

"Sirius?" asked Harry.

"No, he and Lupin and Tonks were kept out of the loop, as were my Dad and brothers" Ron said, to Harry's relief. "Dumbledore didn't trust them to go along with it. In fact, Sirius and Professor Lupin kept going on about what a cute couple you two were, and about how much you reminded them of James and Lily. We had to do the memory charm on them several times, just to get them to shut up about it."

"Harry," Hermione said softly, glancing at her watch, "the Veritaserum is going to wear off soon." He nodded thoughtfully.

"One more thing," asked Harry turning back to Ron curiously, "What's with the second wand?"

"Moody's orders. Standard practice for Aurors and members of the Order really. Always have a spare, just in case."

"Well," replied Hermione handing one of Ron's wands to Harry. "Now I guess we're the ones with spares."

"Langlock!" Harry said trying out the new wand and silencing Ron by sealing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

Harry stepped away and muttered, "I have to think."

Holding onto his arm, Hermione followed him as he walked across the room to the door. "Um… Hermione my love?" Harry said softly, kissing her forehead.

"Hmm?" she asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

"'I have to think' is bloke code for 'I have to go to the loo.'"

"Oh!" gasped Hermione, chuckling with embarrassment and letting go of his arm. "I just don't want to let you out of my sight. I've lost you so many times and I just got you back. I'm not being clingy, really."

"I don't want to lose you again, either," Harry smiled. "But as destined as our love is, I'm not quite ready to have you watch me in the toilet!" They both giggled and then kissed deeply before Harry dashed out of the library, his immediate need overwhelming his desire for the taste of Hermione's lips.

When he got back he found Ron still floating in the middle of the room, and Hermione at the desk working hard. She had gotten her beaded bag out again and set up a potions lab right there, complete with a rack of bottled ingredients and a cauldron over a conjured blue flame. Harry walked up to her and kissed her on top of the head, gesturing questioningly at what she was doing.

"I was sitting here, still mad at Ron, but starting to feel guilty about betraying both him and Ginny by loving you. Then I felt guilty about thinking Dumbledore's plan was sick and twisted." Harry nodded. He'd had similar thoughts and doubts while down the hall. Hermione went on, "That's when I realized we still have the love potion in our systems, and probably some other potions, too. So I decided to whip up the antidote for Amortentia. Luckily the same potion also acts to counter half a dozen common compulsion potions." She carefully ladelled out the sparkling golden liquid into two goblets. "Drink up," she said handing Harry a goblet and taking the other for herself. They clinked rims, then swallowed the surprisingly refreshing tasting counter-potion in one go.

"Merlin's pants!" Hermione said, shaking her head after a few minutes. "I never thought Amortentia would be so strong!"

"Yeah," said Harry, rubbing his temples. "I feel clearheaded for the first time in ages."

"No residual longing for Ginny? Or doubt about us as a couple? Or unquestioning devotion to Dumbledore?"

"None!" laughed Harry, "Just more love for you!" They hugged and began kissing passionately. They were disrupted by a wordless groan from Ron, and looked to see him making a face and rolling his eyes.

"I think he just told us to get a room," Harry laughed.

"Good idea!" Hermione said with a grin taking Harry's hand.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: All those standard disclaimers are still in effect._

_Notes to the reader:_

_(1) This chapter contains a lot of exposition. I've rewritten it several times and considered deleting it completely, but there are some key elements that I wanted to get in place, so please bear with me. The setup is nearly complete and the adventure begins in earnest in the next chapter._

_(2) This chapter also contains sex scenes, as will future chapters. Nothing is really described in any detail. Most of it is innuendo, with nothing explicit, and nothing more than you'd see on American prime time television or in a made-for-teens film. I stand by my choice to rate this story "T". Regardless, consider yourself warned._

Chapter Four

"Wow!" gasped Harry weakly, laying his head back on a pillow.

"That's an understatement!" agreed Hermione with a dreamy giggle. She pushed her mass of totally unruly curls back from her sweaty, flush face and rolled on her back to lay her head next to Harry's. "No wonder they couldn't stop us from doing that."

"Yeah," Harry smiled, turning his head to squint at her, having laid his glasses aside quite some time earlier. "We're good."

"Another understatement, Mr. Potter," she laughed, too spent to do more than flop a limp hand on his chest, which was still rising and falling rapidly from recent exertion. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Hermione."

They were lying on sofa cushions spread out on the parlor floor, where, last night, the three of them had slept, in fully-clothed platonic companionship. Now, however, it was just the two of them, and they were anything but platonic. Their lovemaking had been as electric and new as a couple's first time, but without the typically inherent awkwardness. Their bodies had reacted to each other's instinctively. Deep in their minds, they already knew what each partner wanted and needed, even if their restored memories were still somewhat jumbled and confused.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, cuddling into his armpit and throwing a leg over his. She marvelled, not for the first time, or the last, just how perfectly their bodies fit together.

"Hmm?" he responded, already half asleep.

"Where there any other memories they obliviated?" she asked tentatively. "I mean besides the ones about us being together?" She immediately regretted the question when she saw his face go dark and his lightning-scarred brow become furrowed. _Why did I have to go and ruin such a perfect moment with my insatiable curiosity and analytical outlook, _she berated herself.

"Yes," his voice crackling with barely bridled emotion, eyes closed tight.

"Do you want to talk about them?" she said softly, lifting her head to study his face. She was committed to this now, so she tried to turn it into something that might help them both. "You know, to help piece together our real pasts."

Harry kept his eyes closed for several minutes. Hermione wondered if he had fallen asleep. She lay her head down on his shoulder again and held him close, trying to send comforting, loving thoughts through her skin into his.

"I remember running away from the Dursleys'," he said suddenly, startling her from her thoughts. "Several times," he continued, "but someone from the Order, usually McGonagall or Mrs. Weasley, would always find me and take me back. I didn't even know who they were back then. One time, and this was even before starting at Hogwarts, I made it as far as Devon. Not sure what I thought I was doing, but I had seen a show on the telly about a family that lived there that had adopted five orphaned children. Maybe I hoped they'd adopt me, too." Hermione whimpered and hugged him tighter, the contrast between her happy upbringing and his personal childhood hell pulling at her heart. He reassuringly caressed her arm and went on, "Another time they found me in the Social Services office in downtown London, detailing the Dursleys' abuse to a very interested and concerned Child Welfare agent. Dumbledore himself apparated right into the office and obliviated everyone in sight. His face was purple with anger. It reminded me of Uncle Vernon when he was yelling at me."

"Most of the other memories," he said after another long pause, "are just little snippets of things I saw or heard that I shouldn't have. Like the one time I came across Ron and Snape talking in a corridor. Snape was giving him a bottle and telling him how much to put in your pumpkin juice per day. I guess that was last year. It didn't make any sense at the time, but I suppose now it does. There are lots of little things like that I'm going to have to get sorted."

"There is one memory," Harry then said excitedly, "from last spring, the day Snape mur- um, killed Dumbledore. I was going to meet the Headmaster and we were going to go find the locket. I must have arrived early because he and Snape were talking. Actually, they were arguing loudly. When Dumbledore caught me eavesdropping, he immediately erased my memory. Snape was upset with him, yelling at him, telling him that he didn't want to do it, that he wouldn't do it, that it was asking too much of him. But Dumbledore insisted, holding Snape to some oath he had taken before. My mother's name came up. Oh my God, Hermione!" She raised herself on her elbow to look at Harry, questioningly. "Snape was in love with my mother! He turned double agent against Tom Riddle because he wanted to save my mother from the purge of Muggleborns that would happen if Riddle won the first war. Even though she married my father and had me, he still loved her!" Harry paused, deep in thought, before commenting, "He hates me because I'm a constant reminder of my father, the schoolboy rival who tormented him and eventually won the heart of the girl he loved."

"But he protected you, saved your life even, because you reminded him of your mother," Hermione concluded, thinking back on all the times that Snape had actually worked to keep Harry from harm. "You were the only thing left of her that he had."

Harry nodded, surprised that he agreed with her assessment. "That's not all. The thing Snape didn't want to do, that Dumbledore insisted on, was…" Harry paused, gulping at the memory. Hermione put her hand on his cheek, both eager and afraid to hear what he was going to say. "Dumbledore made Snape take an oath that he would be the one to kill him! Apparently when Dumbledore destroyed the horcrux in Gaunt's ring, he was fatally cursed. He knew he was going to die. He also knew that Draco was given the task to kill him as a test to become a real Death Eater. Dumbledore wanted to die on his own terms and not make a murderer out of Malfoy, so he forced Snape into doing it instead."

"Dumbledore," gasped Hermione, "The master manipulator. It almost makes you feel sorry for Snape!"

"Almost," agreed Harry, full of conflicting emotions about their long-despised professor.

"So Snape is one of the good guys," said Hermione, trying to get her mind around the concept.

"As good as anyone else in the Order, I guess," said Harry, not quite ready to agree, but also not disagreeing, "Or anyone who bought into Dumbledore's way of working against Riddle."

Harry put on his glasses and the two teens lay silently for a long time, both contemplating all they had learned that day. "I think…" said Hermione after several minutes.

"What a shock," teased Harry, interrupting. "Hermione Granger thinking! Never happens!"

"Stop it!" exclaimed Hermione, pulling on his earlobe. "I'm trying to be serious."

"OK, OK, I surrender," said Harry, rubbing his ear and pouting. "Sorry."

"I think the problem is Dumbledore's concept of 'The Greater Good' that Ron mentioned," Hermione went on, ignoring him in her eagerness to get her ideas presented. "It's very Machiavellian: the ends justifying the means. It's also very elitist. Dumbledore thought that he could and should do anything to stop Vol—"

"Don't call him that!" Harry exclaimed.

"Why not?" Hermione said, confused. "You've always used it and encouraged the rest of us to, also. Now you want me to call him You-Know-Who? You said fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"That's Dumbledore's line. But I now realize that using that fake title buys into a false mystique. It's a name he made up to cover the fact that he was a halfblood from a broken family, to make himself sound more important. His real name is Tom Riddle. Call him that," Harry insisted.

"OK," Hermione acquiesced, agreeing with Harry's logic, and realizing that he had already used the name Riddle several times in their conversation. "Anyway, as I was saying, Dumbledore believed that he was free to do anything to stop Tom Riddle, to use any means he deemed necessary. And he used his standing as a famous and powerful wizard to convince others to blindly follow his plans. He didn't think it was wrong to manipulate and coerce anyone into doing his bidding because he felt he knew what was right and what would win the war. It was OK for the weaker and more expendable to be sacrificed for the greater good."

"But that made him no better than Riddle himself," exclaimed Harry sitting up angrily. "How is what he did to you and me, or even how he used Snape, any different from the way Death Eaters use the Imperius curse to force people to do bad things they don't want to do?"

"It's not any different," agreed Hermione, also sitting up and reaching for her t-shirt. Now that they weren't active or cuddling anymore, she was getting a touch cold. Harry frowned at the loss of seeing her fully nude. She noticed with a slight smirk, but continued her line of thought, "I've come to realize that, as much as I like being a witch, the wizarding world is not a very nice place. It's very archaic, almost feudal. They're centuries behind modern Muggle society. Witches and wizards from the old families are admired and followed unquestioningly. That's why blood purity is considered so important, since magical ability tends to run in families. It's no wonder that everything is controlled by just a few old pure bloodlines. And everyone else follows along like sheep, unwilling, or unable to change how things have been done for centuries."

"But it's not true about blood," said Harry vehemently. "Look at you. You're the smartest, most talented witch around, and you're a Muggleborn! Even Dumbledore was in awe of you!"

Hermione blushed at the praise, but responded, "Yet he didn't hesitate to obliviate me, nor to give me potions and use compulsion charms to manipulate me. Would he have done that as readily to a pureblood, I wonder? The entire wizarding culture is biased against Muggleborns, halfbloods, and other 'impure' people and races. It's everywhere, not just in people's attitudes, but it's been institutionalized. Just look at how they treat poor Professor Lupin, or Hagrid, or house elves, or the centaurs. And think about the underaged magic laws. For Muggleborn kids any magic done at home means possible expulsion from Hogwarts, but for pureblood children it's totally undetectable because they're surrounded by magic all the time at home. They're expected to abide with the rules by a completely un-enforceable honor code. The Weasleys all admitted to frequently practicing magic at home behind their parents' backs. Talk about a leverage up in preparing for school."

Harry had no response for that, since everything she said was true. Growing up, he sometimes got away with such infractions with just a warning because he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, but the threat of legal repercussions had always been there. He never really thought of the everyday, subtle discrimination that someone like Hermione had lived with since discovering she was a witch, or the overt prejudices against Lupin and Hagrid. He was also feeling guilty about how he had yelled at Lupin the other day when he came wanting to join their quest. In silent contemplation they got dressed and went down to the kitchen to find some dinner.

"So what are we going to do now?" Hermione asked sometime later. She set her glass of wine down on the edge of the tub and reached for another piece of cheese, then lay back into Harry's embrace. They were reclining, chest deep, in a hot bubble bath, nibbling on snacks that Kreacher had prepared for them. The increasingly less curmudgeonly elf had been surprisingly willing to help when Hermione asked him if there was anything to eat. He quickly provided a delectable plate of cheeses, sliced hard sausage, fruit, and fresh bread and butter, accompanied by an amazing bottle of Bordeaux. Harry had then filled the bathroom with candles while she ran hot water into the tub. Hermione was delighted at how romantic the atmosphere was. The obliviated version of her life had been sorely lacking in romantic scenes like this. They'd been relaxing and cuddling in the warm water simply enjoying each other's company for a long time before she reluctantly broke the silence.

"Well," said Harry taking a deep breath. "After we finally decide we've had enough of this bath, I thought maybe we could try what we did in the Forbidden Forest that one time Hagrid caught us."

"Silly goose," laughed Hermione, after recovering from snorting wine out her nose. "I meant about Ron and the Order, about the horcruxes, about the fight against Tom Riddle and the Death Eaters."

"Oh," said Harry slowly. "I guess we have a few options."

Hermione nodded and offered, in a somewhat wistful voice, her opinion on what first option should be. "We could run away together. We could leave the U.K. and the wizarding world behind. Go to Australia like my parents, or someplace else where no one could find us. I've always wanted to see America."

"That'd be nice. I've never really been anywhere." Harry smiled and pushed her hair to the side to kiss the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear, making her whimper. "But you know that Tom Riddle wouldn't stop looking for us. He's as wrapped up in that prophecy as I am. Besides, even though Dumbledore and the Order treated us the same way purebloods treat house elves, we can't just let Riddle win to spite them. A lot of innocent people would get hurt because of our choice to run away."

Hermione nodded silently and lifted Harry's hand to rub against her cheek. It was his "saving people thing" that most attracted her to him. She had to admit she had a strong streak of it in herself. Why else would she have come up with S.P.E.W., or spent so much time helping Harry over the years, even when her love for him had been obliviated? She suggested a second option, "We could confront the Order and tell them that they need to play by our rules now. Tell them we're their ace team and we're in charge. Stage a coup. Though, I admit that could prove…rather difficult."

"Yeah, rather," Harry sighed. "They've spent nearly all our lives manipulating and obliviating us. I don't think they'll give up control that easily, even without Dumbledore around anymore. His plan lives on in his faithful." He thought for a moment, "Another option is that we could ignore the Order and finish the hunt alone. That was going to be the plan anyway, wasn't it? That you and I figure it all out ourselves and do the dirty work, with them just watching from the sidelines."

"And Ron along as the mole," Hermione added, "and chaperone."

"Git," he responded scornfully, his ire at his former best friend's betrayal coming back in full force.

"Harry," she said comfortingly, sensing his mood change and wanting the loving Harry back. She rolled onto her side to look at his face, splashing a little water over the edge of the tub. "I vote for the last option. Going on with the hunt on our own. F*** the Order! F*** Ron!"

"Hermione!" Harry laughed. "Such language!" He kissed her on the lips, then on the cheeks, then on the eyes. She smiled and made a soft rumbling sound deep in her throat. Harry laughed again. "Love! You're purring!"

"I guess you just bring out the animal in me," she laughed. Rolling onto her stomach and arching her back, she suggestively pressed the length of her body against his. "You mentioned something about what we did in the Forbidden Forest, I think? I seem to recall it being kind of animalistic, too." Harry laughed.

They kissed again, then mutually decided it was time to get out of the tub. What they'd done in the Forbidden Forest wouldn't work well in a bathtub. After drying each other off with soft towels, they put on robes that Kreacher had laid out for them. Arms wrapped around each other's waist, they walked back down to the parlor, pausing frequently to kiss. They were surprised to meet the wrinkled old elf in the doorway.

"Master and Mistress shouldn't be sleeping on the floor," said the elf insistently. "Kreacher has prepared the guest room for them. Come, follow Kreacher." Confused, but curious, they trailed the ancient house elf down the hall to a room they had searched weeks earlier and since ignored. They were surprised to discover that it was no longer an unwelcoming, dark, and musty cave, like the rest of the house. Now, not a speck of dust was to be found, and the room was brightly lit and smelled of fresh air and flowers. The heavy curtains and bedding had been replaced with white lace and linens. Even the formerly dark and distinctively masculine furniture seemed to have taken on a bright, delicate, almost feminine quality. It looked, to their Muggle-raised eyes, like a honeymoon suite.

"It's beautiful!" exclaimed Hermione. "Thank you, Kreacher!" She bent over and planted a kiss on the top of his head. Harry thought the poor elf was going to explode. Laughing at Kreacher's discomfort, Harry echoed Hermione's praise and gratitude, though he replaced the kiss with a pat on the back. That sent Kreacher over the edge, and he ran from the room wailing and leaving a trail of tears on the carpet. First they had given him Master Regulus' locket. Then they had treated him with respect, kind words, and frequent gratitude. Now they were kissing him and patting him on the back. After years of abuse from the Black family, his little, shrivelled, cantankerous heart was having trouble handling the new emotions filling it.

Laughing, Harry turned to his love and said with a wink. "I think we broke him." Hermione smiled and shut the door. She had other things on her mind than the house elf.

The next morning they had a lie in. Exhausted from the night's activities, they slept until nearly noon. When they finally emerged from their room, they were surprised to discover that the transformation that Kreacher had performed on the guest bedroom was now evident throughout the old Black residence. "He must have worked all night," said Hermione with guilt-ridden awe.

After a hearty, Full English Breakfast, prepared by Kreacher, the two lovers checked on Ron, making sure the wasn't too comfortable in the empty room that they had converted into a prison cell. Then they went up to the library to continue the research they'd been doing the day before.

"So what's our next step?" Harry asked when they had settled onto the sofa with a stack of books in front of them.

"Well," Hermione said, all business. "I think we should execute the plan we've been working on. We've been watching the Ministry for weeks. We know Umbridge has the real locket. In fact, it's the only horcrux we really know the location of. Our plan is basically sound. It's time to just do it. Tomorrow's Sunday and the Ministry is closed, so we can finalize our preparations and go for it Monday morning.

"OK," he agreed, getting excited at the thought of actually doing something, rather than just planning. "What do we do about Ron? Obliviate him?"

"No!" Hermione responded strongly to Harry's suggestion. "I have had enough of memory charms for a lifetime. We can just leave him in his room while we go to the Ministry. We'll be back before dark. He'll be OK." Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione thought a moment, then continued, "In the long run, maybe we should just keep him locked up until the war is over and he can't do anymore harm. We might think about whether we're going to need to have other holding cells for prisoners. I wonder if we oughtn't try to capture some Death Eaters for interrogations, or just to remove them from the war. Do you know if this place has a basement."

Harry shrugged, then mused, "Our own little Azkaban. Won't that drive old Lady Black's portrait into a tizzy!" Hermione laughed at the thought.

They spent the rest of the weekend revising the detailed notes they'd taken after weeks of observing the ministry, adjusting their infiltration plan to work with just the two of them, and, of course, renewing the physical part of their relationship. They also decided to do a more thorough interrogation of Ron, making a list of questions that they needed answering, including details about what the Order knew, and how Ron was to communicate with them while they were on the hunt. It was agreed that Hermione would do the questioning, with Ron under the truth serum and Harry in the room with them under the invisibility cloak for protection. They figured Ron would be less likely to try to resist the Veritaserum if he thought it was just Hermione asking the questions.

"He thinks because I'm a girl and a Muggleborn, I'm not that much of a threat," said Hermione.

"Then he's an idiot," said Harry.

"I think he's established that fact several times through the years," Hermione laughed. "He's not that good of an actor, if haven't noticed." Harry smiled and gave her a kiss and a hug for luck.

"Are you going to let me out?" asked Ron eagerly when Hermione came into the bare, windowless chamber. He was sitting on the hard wooden chair in the middle of the room. The only other furniture they'd left him was a lumpy mattress on the floor and an enchanted chamberpot in the corner. Ron was licking an empty plate, but he dropped it to plead with her. "I'm still on your side! Hermione baby, I don't deserve this. I argued with them not to do it. I won't help them anymore, I promise. I want to help you! I love you! Always have, you know."

Hermione ignored his pleading and pointed her wand at him. "Drink this," she said, holding out a small bottle containing a carefully measured dose of Veritaserum. "I have some more questions to ask."

Ron pursed his lips in thought, then nodded and reached for the potion. Hermione stepped back, careful not to bump into the cloaked Harry. Before raising the bottle to his lips Ron asked, "Do you think I could get some better food? All that damn elf has given me to eat is a couple of pieces of stale bread. I'm starving."

"We'll see," Hermione said with a stone face. "It depends how well you answer my questions." She had coached herself ahead of time not to show any emotion, and to offer small comforts as incentives.

Ron nodded then downed the serum. He grimaced, then said, "By the way, thanks for putting the silencing charm on the room. Listening to you and Harry shagging for hours on end that Friday night was driving me bonkers. 'Oh Harry!' 'Oh Hermione!' And what was with all that howling and thumping? It sounded like the goul in the attic at the Burrow."

Hermione blushed with embarrassment, rethinking her vow not to obliviate the redhead. She swore she heard Harry snicker under the cloak. She'd deal with him later. She managed to keep her voice calm as she launched into the first of her long list of memorized questions.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Those disclaimers are still in effect. Let the action begin!_

Chapter Five

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Harry heard Hermione's voice berating herself over and over again. He opened his eyes and sat up. He was sitting on leaf-strewn ground in the middle of a forest somewhere. Hermione was walking in circles around him, waving her wand and muttering protective spells. She occasionally interrupted her incantations with additional self-directed abuse. She was still dressed in Mafalda Hopkirk's ministry robes and her hair was rapidly changing from the older witch's fly-away grey locks to her normal bushy brown curls. Harry looked down to see himself similarly attired in Albert Runcorn's more imposing clothing. Now that the polyjuice potion was fully wearing off, the six foot tall Ministry official's robes fit him about as well as Dudley's hand-me-downs.

"Hermione?" he asked, confused. "Where are we?"

She turned to look at him, relieved that he was awake and alright, but still greatly perturbed at herself. "Forest of Dean," she answered quickly before turning back to her enchantments.

"Oh," he said, still baffled. "I thought we were going back to Grimmauld Place."

"We were," she snapped over her shoulder. Then she bowed her head and sighed. "Sorry, Harry." She turned and walked over to him, sitting down with a huff next to him on the forest floor. "We did go back to Grimmauld Place, but Yaxley grabbed my arm just as we disapparated and came along with us. I knew as soon as we landed on the front step that the Fidelus Charm on the house had been compromised, so I um… kneed him in the... um…you know where. As soon as he let go of my arm I apparated us here." She gestured weakly, looking at the trees around them. "Mum and Dad and I used to come here camping in the summers before Hogwarts. It's a popular Muggle holiday spot."

"But why are you so mad at yourself?" Harry asked, reaching out to raise her chin up with his hand, making her look at him.

"Because nothing went according to plan!" she exclaimed in frustration slapping the ground with her hands. "Even after weeks of planning and scouting out the Ministry, we were totally unprepared. We didn't know what we were doing at all! How am I supposed to be the next Dumbledore when I'm so bloody thick!"

"Hermione, my love," Harry said, shaking his head with a soft, hopefully reassuring smile. "Haven't you learned from the last six years of hanging out with me? Nothing ever turns out like you expect it to. Even Dumbledore knew that, for all his planning and scheming. We got what we were after, didn't we? Slytherin's locket?"

Hermione nodded, still pouting. "Yeah, but we almost died!"

Harry nodded, "But we didn't, did we? I'm not dead. You're not dead. In fact, neither one of us is even injured."

"But…" she started to retort.

"But what?" Harry interrupted with a finger on her lips. "We accomplished what we set out to do. We didn't end up in St. Mungo's or worse. To me that sounds like a successful day's work!"

"But we lost Grimmauld Place!" Hermione almost sobbed. "It's your home now! I…I…"

"What?" prompted Harry, not understanding why she was so emotional over the Black family's old house. Yes, it was a link to Sirius, but in the end that mattered less to him than other things.

"It was shaping up so nicely. And Kreacher was warming up to us. I… I was starting to think of it as _our_ home," she cried, falling into his arms.

"Oh Hermione," Harry said softly, pulling her back to look at her tear-streaked face. He didn't know how to handle crying women, but knew he had to say something. He decided to speak from the heart, "Don't you understand? Grimmauld Place is just a house. Wherever _you_ are is my home."

He guessed that was the wrong thing to say, because Hermione threw herself into his arms again and wailed even louder. He just held her and ran his hands through her completely snarled curls and over her shaking back as she soaked the front of Runcorn's robes with floods of tears. Harry wondered what he could say to make things better again, but he was at a complete loss. Suddenly, he found himself being passionately kissed and pushed onto his back with Hermione straddling him.

"I love you so much," she gasped between kisses, as she fumbled with the buttons on his borrowed robes. In record time, she had them both half undressed, without hardly removing her mouth from his.

When she finally broke their kiss to catch her breath, Harry gripped her shoulders and tentatively asked, "Um… Hermione, are you sure you want to do this right here? We're out in the open, someone might see us. I thought I saw a Muggle campsite over that way."

"Protective enchantments. Trust me. No one can see or hear us," she said quickly as she pulled Mafalda's robes completely off her shoulders. Harry's mind went elsewhere than on possible neighboring campsites.

An hour later found them very relaxed, sitting next to each other and sipping tea at the small table in the kitchen of a wizarding tent that Hermione had in her beaded bag. It was the larger of the two tents Mr. Weasley had for the Quidditch World Cup, what seemed like an eternity ago. She'd asked Mr. Weasley if she could borrow it when she saw it gathering dust on a shelf in his shed at the Burrow. It still smelled faintly of cats.

At least Harry was relaxed. Hermione, on the other hand, had her notebook out and was furiously writing in it. She insisted that they go over their prior plan and compare it to what had actually transpired at the Ministry. To Harry it at first felt like her annoying habit of talking over exams just after they were finished, but he acquiesced, hoping it would help calm her emotions down. Not that making love hadn't already gone a long way toward that goal. At least she wasn't beating herself up about being stupid anymore. As they recalled their memories, Harry began to see the value in Hermione's desire for immediate self-analysis. They could learn from their mistakes while the events were still fresh in their minds.

Just that morning they apparated to downtown London under Harry's invisibility cloak. They'd been doing the same thing almost every day for the last three weeks, so they had the pattern of the Ministry workers arrivals down. Today, however, they were going to execute their carefully laid out plan to infiltrate the ministry and find the locket. Initially, things went smoother than expected, especially without having to accommodate Ron being along. For instance, they both easily fit under the cloak, which made obtaining hairs from silently stunned Ministry officials much less complicated than originally planned. They'd used polyjuice potion to take the places of Albert Runcorn, an imposing, six foot tall, highly ranked Ministry official, and Malfalda Hopkirk, the petite, grey-haired assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Department (who had sent Harry several warning letters over the years).

They were reluctant to separate, but they knew they had to get into the Ministry. As they had discovered on previous visits, the employees entrances were now through bathrooms in the underground. Harry and Hermione gave each other a quick squeeze of the hand before going into the gender-specific loos. Harry was disgusted to find out that he had to stand in the toilet and flush himself into the Ministry. He found Hermione already waiting for him, though it took him a moment to recognize her in Mafalda Hopkirk's body.

The first thing they saw once inside the Ministry atrium was the new sculpture in the center. Replacing the Fountain of Magical Brethren, which had been destroyed when they fought Voldemort the night Sirius died, was a new statue in the form of a witch and wizard sitting high atop thrones. Harry and Hermione shared a horrified glance when they realized that the thrones were made entirely of naked and contorted bodies of what they assumed were Muggles. At the base of the disturbing statue was the inscription "Magic is Might". That Riddle's plan for a new world order of wizards dominating muggles would be so openly and prominently displayed in the Ministry of Magic did more to rattle their confidence than anything short of a picture of Tom Riddle himself on the banner over the door could have done.

From that point on, events started to deviate from their plan. Harry, as Runcorn, had intended to search Umbridge's office for the locket. He never got there. They boarded the next available lift from the atrium, still looking at each other with worry in their eyes, trying desperately to resist holding onto each other's hand. Luckily no one else got on with them. They were surprised when, at the next stop, Umbridge herself stepped into the lift. She assumed that Mafalda was coming to meet her to help with a hearing on the blood status of some witch they never heard of before. Apparently they were rounding up Muggleborns and subjecting them to hearings on trumped up charges of stealing magic. Harry became angrier at the "new" Ministry, and even more frightened for what would happen to Hermione if they got caught.

"Excellent, Mafalda," said the toad-like woman in her usual bright pink cardigan over her ministry robes. "Come with me down to the hearing room. We're starting this morning with the Mary Cattermole case." She looked at Harry/Runcorn and nodded a greeting. When he only nodded back, she asked, "Aren't you getting off here, Albert?"

Harry gave Hermione a quick look and began to step off of the lift. Then he realized what he had just seen hanging around Umbridge's short, wide neck. Nestled on her pink ruffled-covered blouse was Slytherin's locket! Harry quickly stepped back onto the elevator and pulled the door shut. He gave a confused Hermione another significant look, pointedly glancing down at Umbridge's chest. Hermione's eyebrows rose and she made a silent "oh" with her mouth when she saw the locket. Fortunately, Umbridge was not looking at her at the time.

"What are you doing, Albert?" Umbridge asked, giving him a suspicious squint.

"I thought I'd come down and watch one of your hearings," Harry responded, trying to make his voice as deep as the real Runcorn's.

"Why?" she asked, flustered. "Is the Minister not satisfied with my results? We processed two dozen false witches and wizards just last week alone."

"Oh, it's not that," Harry responded with a gruff laugh. "I just thought it would be uh…amusing to watch a so-called Muggleborn suffer under your expert inquisition this morning. A nice break from the usual paperwork, you know."

"Oh my, Dolores!" Hermione interrupted, not liking the turn of the conversation, and trying to distract Umbridge. "What an pretty locket! What does the 'S' stand for?"

"What?" said Umbridge, turning to look at Hermione, then glancing down at the locket. She suddenly smiled proudly. "Oh, this! It is nice isn't it? It's a family heirloom. The 'S' is for Selwyn, one of my ancestors. I come from a long line of pureblood families, you know."

Furious at Umbridge's outright lie about how she obtained the locket, Harry pulled out his wand. Just then the lift started to move. "Albert! What are you…," Umbridge croaked as she saw Harry's wand hand waiver with the sudden motion.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, quickly re-aiming his wand.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione, struggling as Umbridge's stunned body fell against her. "What are you doing? Someone will catch us!"

"I don't think we'll get a better chance, Hermione," he responded, bending over to help lower Umbridge to the floor and pulling the locket from around her neck. "Is there an emergency stop button for the lift?" Hermione looked around desperately, then shook her head. "Arresto Momentum!" Harry tried, raising his wand, but the lift continued to move at breakneck speed.

Hermione quickly waved her wand and produced another locket, duplicate to the one dangling from Harry's hand. "Stand her up," she said frantically, trying to place the fake locket around Umbridge's thick neck. "We'll wake her before we get to the next stop and maybe she won't notice the switch. Hurry!"

Harry pocketed the real locket and put his hands under Umbridge's arms. Suddenly the lift stopped and the door opened. They froze, like a tableau, with Harry bent over, having half lifted Umbridge to her feet and Hermione with her wand out and ready to wake the hated witch. "What the…?" came a startled voice from the person waiting to board the lift. With horror they realized it was none other than Yaxley, a known Death Eater who had been present on the Astronomy Tower when Dumbledore was killed. Now he was dressed in Ministry robes, obviously another trusted Voldemort supporter put into a position of power. Harry dropped Umbridge and reached for his wand again, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Stupefy!" she shouted. Unfortunately, the alert Yaxley dove to the side and only caught the spell with a glancing blow. He fell to the floor, but wasn't fully knocked out.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Harry when the Death Eater slowly pulled his wand with an Unforgiveable Curse on his lips. Harry caught the wand as it flew towards him. Grabbing Hermione's free hand, he shouted, "Run!" Jumping over Yaxley's awkwardly groping arms, they dashed out of the lift.

"Stop them!" slurred a still slightly stunned Yaxley. Harry and Hermione didn't know what floor they were on, but saw that it was filled with rows of tables with witches and wizards magically reproducing leaflets and stuffing them into copies of the Daily Prophet. Everyone in the room froze, looking at the extremely odd sight of the tall and much-feared Runcorn holding the hand of the aged and well-respected Mafalda Hopkirk and running away from the even more feared Yaxley, with the still unconscious body of Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge still visible on the floor of the lift. Harry dropped Yaxley's wand as he fumbled in his pocket and threw two Decoy Detonators to the floor. The Weasley twins' defensive products ran out to either side of the large room on little mechanical legs. Meanwhile, Hermione cast a Petrificus Totalis toward the rising Yaxley. Once again he dove to the side, avoiding the spell.

With deafening bangs, the Decoy Detonators exploded, instantly filling the room with clouds of thick, black smoke. Everyone in the room began running around coughing and yelling. In the chaos, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand again and dragged her onto the second lift that had just arrived. There was only one wizard on board and Harry, in Runcorn's strong body, easily tossed him out into the smoky room, where he collided with Yaxley, once again knocking the Death Eater from his feet. Only as the door of the lift closed did Harry realize that the wizard was none other than Arthur Weasley. Whispering a heartfelt apology, Harry punched the button for the atrium. He turned to give Hermione a reassuring hug. She was shaking with fear and adrenalin, and hadn't noticed Mr. Weasley at all.

"H-Harry," Hermione said in a quavering voice as the lift jerked into motion. "Did you see those wanted posters?" He shook his head. "They were of us! Over your picture it said 'Undesirable No. 1', and over mine it said, 'Undesirable No. 2'! The reward for your capture was 200,000 Galleons! I didn't have time to see what the reward for me was, but it called me a Mudblood Magic Thief."

Harry pulled her into a closer hug, but they jumped apart as the lift stopped and the door opened. Half a dozen people and a flock of Ministry memos flowed in to join them. Hermione composed her face and smoothed her robes as most of the newcomers nervously tried to avoid Harry/Runcorn's stern gaze. The lift made three more stops. At each more people squeezed in, all avoiding Runcorn, but quietly greeting Hermione/Mafalda with a nod or discreet smile.

As the lift door opened to the atrium, a loud alarm was heard and an amplified, commanding voice announced that the exits were about to be sealed and that Albert Runcorn and Mafalda Hopkirk were to be considered dangerous and were to be detained immediately. Everyone on the lift turned to look at them with surprise, then fled in a panic into the atrium. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand again and they bowled their way through the crowd. More people started screaming and running in all directions when they saw the wanted pair.

Guards were standing in front of the main exit. Running at them, Harry and Hermione began throwing stunning curses, trying only to hit the guards, who were not so discriminating with their own curses. Stunned bodies of bystanders fell everywhere, littering the floor and causing them to dodge and jump to make any progress. "Stop them!" they heard a voice shout over the din. Looking back, they saw Yaxley stride from a lift, pointing angrily at them. Luckily he didn't appear to have recovered his wand.

They continued to knock people aside, but Harry discovered he was getting weaker and weaker. He tripped on his robe and realized that the polyjuice potion was wearing off. Hermione's face was also looking less Mafalda-like by the second.

"Look!" someone shouted, pointing at him. "Isn't that Harry Potter?" There were more shouts, repeating his name, some in anger, some in surprise, and a few, brave ones, cheering him on. He and Hermione were pulled apart, but managed to stay within sight of each other as they pushed and punched the people trying to stop them. They reached an exit and each stunned a guard. Dashing through it, they found themselves transported to the busy London street. Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and disapparated them, just as Yaxley arrived.

"I guess you're right," Harry admitted to Hermione back in the tent after they had finished recalling all the details of their raid on the Ministry. "I suppose that could have gone a little better." She laid down her quill and gave him a look of exasperation.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Those disclaimers are still in effect. I'm just playing with J.K. Rowling's world and characters, expecting and gaining no monetary rewards from my efforts._

Chapter Six

"Harry, have you noticed anything lately?"

"Hmmm?" he responded, distracted. Over the last few days they had covered one wall of the tent with various notes and speculations, about everything from horcruxes, to Tom Riddle, to Dumbledore's plans, to the Order of the Phoenix, to the last war; basically any topic that they thought was related to their quest to defeat Voldemort. It had been Harry's idea originally. He remembered something similar from a television detective drama that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were addicted to. Hermione exclaimed that he was brilliant. She and her parents watched the same show. In fact, it was the only non-fiction television her parents let her view. They liked it because it emphasized using logic and the scientific method to catch criminals.

The idea was to lay out graphically out all their knowledge about a problem and look for connections and missing pieces of information. The large scale format helped with visualization. Hermione did it one better, using magic to highlight some of the connections that weren't obvious before. They took to calling it "The Wall of Mysteries". Hermione was standing in front of the wall of notes and diagrams, tapping her chin and thinking hard. She turned her head to look at Harry and saw him deep in thought. The sight warmed her heart in ways she didn't fully understand. That was what prompted her query to him.

"I mean," she clarified her earlier question, "have you noticed anything different about yourself, about how you've been thinking since we recovered our memories?" He frowned and looked up at her face inquiringly. "For instance," she asked, "what are you thinking about right now?"

"Well," he said hesitantly. "I was thinking about Riddle's horcruxes, but then you bent over to pick up your quill and I started thinking about how good your bum looks in those jeans." Hermione blushed and unconsciously twisted to look at her own backside. "Then I thought about how much, um, _sexier_, you look in Muggle clothes than in wizarding robes. That got me to thinking about how prudish wizard clothing and attitudes are. From there I went to our favorite topic of how little progress the wizarding world has made in the last few hundred years compared to Muggles. Then I thought about how Muggles are continually and rapidly advancing their society, politics, art, science, technology, you name it. Whereas witches and wizards are content, even adamant, to keep the status quo. Wizard culture is, by nature, most likely due to the existence of magic, stagnant, whereas Muggle culture is always seeking improvement, most likely because of the lack of magic."

"That's exactly what I'm getting at!" exclaimed Hermione. "I mean, a week ago, I don't think your hormonal teen brain would have gone much further than contemplating my bum, yet now you're using my bum as a launching point for deep contemplation about the anthropological differences between Magical and Muggle societies. You even used the term _status quo_ in a sentence! Don't you find that a bit odd?"

"Well," smirked Harry, "your bum is a bum that could launch a thousand thoughts, Hermione."

"Prat," she said, throwing her quill at him, but she was smiling proudly at him. "What I was trying to say is that I think the Order was doing more than suppressing your memories and manipulating your desires and loyalties. I think they were doing mild Confundus charms on you. No offense, Harry, but you've been acting quite a bit more intelligent than you used to."

"No offense taken, Hermione," Harry said rubbing his chin again in thought. "I think you must be right. I do seem to have more productive thoughts than ever before. I used to feel I was only good at Quidditch and rushing headlong into things. I left all the real thinking to you and to Dumbledore."

"All part of Dumbledore's Plan, I'm sure," growled Hermione. "Keep the Chosen One docile and unquestioning, a willing tool."

Harry smiled at her anger. He wasn't that angry at Dumbledore anymore, since the anger would be futile. He was just anxious to get on with dealing with the present situation. Well, almost. "You know what this newly freed intelligence thinks now?" he asked.

"What?" she said curiously.

"That your bum looks even better _out_ of those jeans," he said grabbing her hand and pulling her down onto his lap.

"Harry!" she squealed, laughing. She was silenced with a deep kiss that made her legs weak and would have curled her hair, if it weren't already as curly as hair could get. "There is one thing about wizarding robes that I like," Hermione said a moment later, frustrated as she frantically fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. "Easier access!" Harry grabbed his wand from the table next to him and flicked it at her. "Oooh!" she squealed in surprise as all of the buttons on her blouse quickly became undone, her bra unhooked itself, and her jeans became unzipped. "Just where did you learn to do that, Harry Potter?" she said with mock indignation. He just smiled at her wickedly and flicked his wand at his own clothes. Soon Hermione was squealing again as Harry worked another kind of magic, one that, in her undeniably biased opinion, he was very good at. They didn't think much more about the Wall of Mysteries or about Voldemort for a few wonderful hours.

That night, due to the afternoon's vigorous activity, they ate a hearty supper. Hermione had packed a good deal of food. Before leaving her parent's house she transferred much of their pantry of tinned food and dry goods into her beaded bag. On the morning they left Grimmauld Place for the Ministry, Kreacher helped her add a some magically preserved fresh foods like meat, fruit, and vegetables. She estimated they could easily survive a month without having to replenish their supplies, two months if they started rationing. Harry was really starting to appreciate Hermione's nervous nature in planning for every scenario that might unfold. He had been thinking they'd be back at Grimmauld Place the same day they left, but she was prepared for the possibility that they wouldn't. She was right, of course.

After sating their hunger, the two young lovers went outside and sat in front of a campfire, cuddling and looking at the stars. Their conversation, however, soon returned to their quest. Harry was anxious to look for the other horcruxes. They still could find no satisfactory common thread in the objects Riddle chose for keeping parts of his soul. So far, because of Harry's private sessions with Dumbledore the previous year, they knew of Riddle's diary, Marvolo Gaunt's ring, Slytherin's locket, and Hufflepuff's cup. The first two were destroyed, one by Harry and one by Dumbledore. The third was in their possession and they hadn't a clue about the location of the fourth. On top of that, they didn't know what the other two horcruxes even were.

Worse, they failed miserably in trying to destroy the horcrux they had. They spent an entire day trying every destructive curse they knew on the locket, all to no avail. They knew that Basilisk venom would destroy it, but short of returning to Hogwarts, that was in short supply. They also knew, from Hermione's reading, that Fiendfyre would do the job, but they didn't know how to produce such a dark spell. Try as he might, Harry could not remember any clue that Dumbledore might have given him as to how he destroyed the ring. The fact that even a powerful wizard like their former Headmaster wound up fatally cursed in the effort caused them to despair that they could be more successful.

Depressed, they turned their thoughts to places that Voldemort would have hidden the horcruxes. The diary had been in Death Eater Lucius Malfoy's possession. The ring had been hidden in the house that Riddle's mother was raised in. The locket had originally been hidden in a secret cave. They had no clue where the cup wound up after coming into Riddle's possession.

"How about the orphanage where Riddle was raised?" Hermione suggested.

"Maybe," said Harry thoughtfully, "but he hated the place. Though I suppose he hated the hovel where his mother grew up, too."

Hermione nodded and huddled closer to Harry and the fire. "Hogwarts would be the obvious place, of course."

"Yeah, like me he thought of it as his real home. I can see him hiding at least one, if not more parts of his soul there. I would."

Hermione looked at Harry, concerned. She didn't like the way he had worded that. Her worry over his mental state was increasing. He'd had three visions of Voldemort since the Ministry, all of which concerned a young boy who had stolen something from Gregorovitch, the wandmaker. Something that Voldemort wanted very badly, so badly that his anger at not finding it overrode the walls both he and Harry placed between their minds. After each vision Harry had been angry and short with her. He would later apologize, but his change in personality, no matter how brief, frightened her. Something similar would happen whenever Harry spent too much time in contact with the locket, like a bit of Voldemort would rub off on him. Even Hermione could sense the evil stored within the locket, which was why she kept it safely hidden inside a heavily warded box deep in her beaded bag. She didn't want to expose either of them to its twisted influence.

Harry, sensing Hermione's worry, smiled and hugged her close. "It's okay, love, I've got you to keep me…well…me." She returned the hug and buried her face in his chest so he wouldn't see the look of concern that didn't go away. What if she wasn't enough to keep him sane, to protect him? "I don't think we're ready to go back to Hogwarts yet. So I think we ought to go find Riddle's orphanage," he said resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Do you know where it is?" Hermione asked, lifting her head from his chest and brushing he hair back from her face to look at him.

"Not exactly. Somewhere in south London, I think. Dumbledore's memory of visiting Tom Riddle there didn't show the name of the orphanage, but I do remember that a woman named Mrs. Cole ran it. I think it was around 1930 that Dumbledore went."

"That should be enough to find it in library records. The London Library is in St. James Square. We should start there. It's a really great library. I went there once on a school trip before Hogwarts." Harry chuckled at Hermione's excitement about going to a library. "We can use the cloak to get there, but it'll be awkward to stay under it while searching the records. We'll need to blend in with the Muggles." She was in full planning mode now.

"How much polyjuice potion do you have left?" Harry asked.

"Enough for two or three more hours for the each of us. That won't give us much time to visit the library, do the research, then visit the orphanage," she frowned, her brow furrowed.

Harry smiled and kissed her forehead. "We were raised as Muggles. We can blend in."

"Better than Ron ever could," she chuckled, remembering how their former friend couldn't even figure out how to order a coffee or use a telephone. "But we'll need a disguise anyway," she added quickly, seeing Harry's frown at the mention of Ron. "London's full of magical people. And our faces have been all over the Daily Prophet. Undesirable Numbers 1 and 2, remember?"

The next afternoon a skinny, brown-eyed teen with spiked blonde hair asked in a bewildered voice, "Are you sure this is the right address, Herm…um…Jean?" He was wearing black jeans, a Union Jack t-shirt, and 1950s style horn-rimmed glasses. His female companion was a bit more mainstream, wearing a green sundress and carrying a beaded handbag. Her hair was in short black curls and the color of her eyes matched the grey cardigan draped over her shoulders.

"For the third time, James, yes!" she huffed back in irritation, "This is the right address. You can read what the reference librarian wrote as well as I can," she added shoving a slip of paper into his face.

The two teens looked like any of the many London youth on the streets that sunny September afternoon. Blending in was just their intention. They'd chosen their clothes and altered their hair, eyes, and a few other facial features so that they wouldn't be recognized by any magical folks that saw them. The lightning bolt on Harry's forehead was hidden with Muggle makeup after they discovered that magic didn't seem to work to cover up cursed scars. Though Harry had a hard time remembering the fact, they decided to call each other by their middle names while out and about in public, on the off chance that someone overheard them. While Harry was common enough, the name Hermione was bound to be noticed.

The teens frowned and continued to look up at the glass walls of the high rise office building. The reference librarian they visited earlier that day told them the orphanage ceased operations sometime in the 1960s. They'd assumed something else had taken over the building, not that it had been torn down and replaced with modern offices. They spent another hour wandering around the outside of the building, and through the parking structure underneath it, but they found no clues and sensed no dark magic.

Dejected, they decided to have tea at a café a few blocks away. They munched their sandwiches and sipped their drinks in silence, deep in thought. "How much money do you have?" Harry asked suddenly.

"You mean British pounds? Quite a bit," Hermione responded, giving him a quizzical look. "I took out my whole savings account and cashed in my college fund."

"Do you think we could stay in a hotel instead of the tent?" he said, pointing his nose at a posh hotel across the street.

She turned and looked at it. "Maybe not one quite that upscale," she laughed, "but yeah, I don't see why not. As long as there aren't any…. um… _you know_ around."

"Do you know of anyplace like that?" he asked.

"Well, London's out. There are too many um…_tourists_… in London," she said, inventing a new codeword for witches and wizards.

"Are there nearby towns where _tourists_ don't usually go?" Harry asked, wishing he knew more about the country he lived in. The Dursley's never took him anywhere, and since he discovered he was a _tourist_ he had really only been to Hogwarts, a few places in London, and the Burrow. He knew there were only a few purely wizarding towns, like Hogsmeade and Godric's Hollow, so that meant wizards were blending in with Muggles, or at least living near them in hidden places, like Grimmauld Place. He didn't know if there were places that wizards just didn't live at all.

"I know just the place," Hermione smiled. "Mum and Dad liked to go there for quiet getaways. No _tourists_ anywhere, as far as I ever noticed."

Later that afternoon found them driving up to a little inn in the village of Shere in Surrey. They hired a car, realizing that it would help them blend in, and drove the hour or so from London. Actually, Hermione did all the driving, since Harry had never learned to operate a car, more evidence of the Dursley's neglect. She promised she'd teach him to drive. Hermione called ahead to reserve a room at the place her parents usually stayed. They agreed to continue using their middle names, so the innkeepers were expecting a young couple named James and Jean, and gave themselves the common last names of Jones and Brown.

"Wait," Harry said, as they got out of the car in front of the inn. He stooped and picked up a twig. Twisting it into a circle, he hid his wand from view and muttered a spell. The twig transfigured into a beautiful golden ring with emeralds on either side of a small diamond. Coming around the car, Harry said, "I was planning on waiting until your birthday to ask, but now seems like a more appropriate time."

"Harry! What are you…?"

"Hermione," he said, kneeling on one knee while holding up the ring, "will you marry me?"

"Harry! Are you doing this just for our disguise?" she whispered, her hands covering her mouth in astonishment.

"No," he said shaking his head vigorously. "I don't know how all this is going to end up, but I do know that I want to spend whatever time we have left together as a couple. A true couple. I want to be your husband, Hermione. I can't think of anything that I've ever wanted more. So, will you marry me?" he asked again.

"Yes!" she squealed, diving at him, knocking them both down onto the turf, covering his face with happy kisses.

Rose Middlemarsh smiled when the young couple came into the lobby of her small inn. She'd seen the proposal through the front window. Over the forty three years she ran the romantic getaway, she'd witnessed lots of such events, yet she never tired of seeing young love. The couple were still a little disheveled and covered with grass clippings when they walked up to her desk. "Hi," the blonde boy said a little nervously, "We're James Jones and Jean Brown

Unable to contain herself, the curly dark-haired girl squealed, "Soon to be Jean Jones! We're engaged!" She held up her hand showing off the ring. "He just proposed!" Rose nodded knowingly, smiling broadly.

"It's lovely," she exclaimed warmly. "You'll be wanting our honeymoon suite

then."

The following week passed in a blissful blur for the young couple. They spent much of their first day at the inn in their room, behaving like they truly were on their honeymoon. Gradually, they emerged, though often one would grab the other's hand and they'd run, giggling back up to their room, not to emerge for another hour or two. Their behavior was much to the amusement of Rose and her husband Angus, who helped her run the inn, and to the other, less demonstrative couples staying there.

Even more amusement was caused later in the week by Hermione's attempts to teach Harry how to drive. Grinding gears, squealing brakes, and an even louder squealing young woman were heard all over the usually quiet town. Occasionally a crash or crunch was heard, accompanied by a heartfelt call of "Sorry!" by Harry. After one such incident the contrite young man spent several hours helping Angus repair the white picket fence in front of the inn. Eventually, though he seemed to get the hang of driving, and the sleepy town became quiet once more.

The second week at the Inn, the young couple apparently started exploring the surrounding countryside. Rose and Angus would cheerfully wave Jean and James off each morning as they drove out of town. The locals sometimes saw the car parked behind bushes or under culverts. They never looked inside, though, but smiled knowingly at the images of young love their imaginations or distant memories conjured up.

In reality, Harry and Hermione were driving outside of town, hiding the car, and apparating under the Invisibility Cloak to London, or other nearby cities. They were desperately searching for clues to Tom Riddle's past. They didn't, however, travel to the two places they knew they would eventually have to visit: Hogwarts and Godric's Hollow. Everytime one of them would bring either place up, they would argue and eventually come up with some excuse not to go. The truth that they were unwilling to admit to each other out loud was that they were afraid. Hogwarts, like the Ministry, was under the control of the Death Eaters. And Godric's Hollow, hometown of the Potters, the Dumbledores, and Godric Gryffindor, was so obvious a place for them to go that they couldn't convince themselves that Voldemort himself wouldn't be there waiting for them. They just couldn't face giving up the carefree fun they were having together in exchange for walking into certain danger.

One evening they were having a romantic dinner in the small dining room of the inn. Rose was waiting on the half dozen or so tables occupied by couples of all ages staying at the inn. The bar was lined with locals being served by an amiable Angus. In the corner a trio of young local musicians played soft classical music. Rose smiled at James and Jean as she poured more wine for them. The young couple was oblivious to her presence. Instead they were holding hands across the table, completely enchanted by each other's eyes. Rose had grown to like these two over the last ten days. They were polite, intelligent, and so obviously in love. Later, while they were having coffee and pudding, Rose overheard them talking softly. It was an odd conversation.

"This has been wonderful," the girl said with a sigh.

"Yes," her fiancé replied pursing his lips, "it's been brilliant. But you know it can't last."

"I know," she sighed once again, her grey eyes looking sad. "We've run out of places to look."

"You know where we have to go," he said grimly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

"I know," she said with a curt nod. "Something has to be at Hogwarts or at Godric's Hollow."

"Either that, or at a Death Eater's house. Lucius Malfoy did have the diary, if you recall."

"Do you really think he trusts his Death Eaters that much?" she asked shaking her head. "I mean Voldemort doesn't really…" She never finished the sentence because suddenly there were loud cracks all around the dining room. Cloaked figures with silver, skull-like masks appeared out of nowhere. Harry and Hermione froze, looking around at the six Death Eaters with wide eyes.

"Now isn't this a pleasant little gathering?" the apparent leader of the Death Eaters said, stepping between the tables, tapping his wand into his gloved hand. "How romantic."

"Excuse me," said Rose, trying to hide her confusion and astonishment at their sudden and strange appearance. "May I help you?"

"I don't think so, Muggle" he replied snidely, spitting the last word like it left a disgusting taste in his mouth. "Unless you happen to be hiding a Blood Traitor or Mudblood magic thief under your quaint roof." He turned around looking intensely at the cowering people in the room, who all seemed frozen like statues, staring back at him. "Come out, little rabbits!" he called with a laugh.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Rose said, her ire at this rude fellow rising. He grunted dismissively at her, waved his wand, and sent an astonished Rose flying across the room. Her head hit the wall with a sickening crash. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she slid to the floor, leaving a trail of blood down the wall. Hermione dug her fingernails into Harry's hand, trying to keep from crying out.

"What the hell!" roared Angus. He came rushing around the bar brandishing an ancient double-barreled shotgun at the stranger who had just assaulted his wife of fifty years.

"_Avada Kedavra,_" said the cloaked figure almost casually. A green light flashed from his wand and Angus fell to the floor deathly still. Pandemonium broke out in the room as the locals at the bar rushed to their friends' aid and the couples at the tables screamed and dove for cover. Green and red lights flashed from the wands of the Death Eaters. More people fell, instantly dead. Others were thrown about like dolls. The scream of the woman at the table next to them ended abruptly with a spray of blood in their direction.

Harry knocked their table over and pulled Hermione down behind it. "Where's your beaded bag?" he whispered frantically, pulling his wand out of his sleeve.

"Up in the room," she hissed back, also pulling her wand out.

"Pop up and get it then meet me at the car…Quickly!"

Hermione nodded, then frowned. "Harry! I can't apparate! They must have wards up!"

"We need that bag, it's got the locket," he whispered, ducking a curse that flew over his head and exploded against the wall behind him. "I guess we fight our way out." He lifted up his pant leg and pulled out the spare wand he'd gotten from Ron. Hermione reached under her skirt and got her own spare out. "Ready?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip, her eyes wild with fright. "Now!"

They jumped up and sent simultaneous stunning spells at the four nearest Death Eaters. Caught by surprise, the cloaked wizards fell to the ground. The other two were not so easily disposed of. One dove behind the bar and started shooting curses at them rapid fire. "There you are little rabbits!" shouted the leader with glee. He stood calmly in the middle of the chaotic room and pointed his wand at Harry, who deftly blocked the curse with a shield charm. The Death Eater then managed to block the first six curses that the couple sent at him, but Harry finally got him with a stunner. Hermione dealt with the remaining Death Eater. He had too good a cover behind the bar, so she simply sent the heavy wooden shelves full of liquor bottles behind the bar crashing down onto him.

Gasping with exertion and sahking from the surge of adrenalin, the two looked at each other and at the destruction around them. Hermione knelt to see if she could help the bleeding woman from the table next to them. "Hermione," Harry said with unnatural calmness. "There may be more of them outside. We need to go. Now!"

She looked up at him, her eyes wild. They were no longer grey, but had reverted to their natural chocolate brown, as had her hair color. She couldn't hold on to the glamour with all the excitement. She nodded and he grabbed her hand, which was slick with the woman's blood. They ran to the doorway of the dining room. A local man was gingerly rising to his feet. "Call 999!" Hermione shouted to him as they ran up the stairs to their room.

The wards had gone down, probably when they stunned the leader. As soon as Hermione had the beaded bag, they held hands and apparated away with a loud crack shattering the strange silence of the inn.

They appeared in the middle of their old clearing in the Forest of Dean. Hermione fell to her knees, sobbing. In a trance, Harry walked around the clearing and said all of their standard protective enchantments. Then he dropped to his knees in front of Hermione and held her.

"They died because of us!" she wailed. Biting his lip, tears running down his face, Harry could only nod in agreement. They were the cause of Rose and Angus' deaths, and of the death and injury of dozens of other innocent, normal people. People who had never heard of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Voldemort, or Death Eaters. People whose only knowledge of magic had been the magic of a sunrise or a babbling brook through a green pasture.

They held each other and cried until there were no more tears left in them, even though the guilt and grief remained unabated. Then, slowly, numbly, they pulled the tent out of the beaded bag and erected it, moving like zombies. They stood at the entrance, looking at each other's bloodshot eyes and red faces. They silently held hands and bent to step into the tent.

"Hi Guys!" came the cheerful voice of a tall, lanky redhead who was standing in the kitchen. "Did you miss me?"


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N #0: Update! Several astute reviewers noted that I had Sirius dying prematurely. That was a complete brain-fart on my part, since I was actually thinking Cedric when I wrote it. The offending passage has been rewritten. Thanks to one reviewer who suggested mentioning the attack on Arthur._

_A/N #1: The standard disclaimers are still in effect. I'm still just playing around with J.K. Rowling's world and characters, expecting and gaining no monetary rewards from my efforts, but having a lot of fun._

_A/N #2: My next update may take awhile. I've decided to outline the remaining chapters so I don't write myself into a corner or leave necessary plot elements out._

Chapter Seven

"Expelliarmus!" "Petrificus Totalis!" "Levicorpus!" "Stupefy!"

Those, plus at least a half dozen additional silently cast spells flew rapid-fire from Harry and Hermione's wands, impacting Ron with a dazzling flash of multicolored light. Harry was surprised when his disarming spell sent a ham and cheese on baguette sandwich into his hand rather than Ron's wand. Harry's eyes widened even further when, in place of the lanky Weasley in the tent's kitchen there was a vaguely redheaded giant yellow slug in wizard robes hanging upside-down and frozen in mid-air. It had a shocked expression on what once had been a human face.

"Bloody %&$!* $*& Ronald %&!*^+*$!%%&* Weasley *^%$*#$%!..." spat a livid Hermione, using swear words that Harry would never have suspected she knew, plus a good many that he, himself, had never heard before, even after a lifetime of exposure to his uncle and cousin's frequent cursing. The next thing Harry knew his fiancée, still in her pretty dress from their disastrous romantic dinner, was rushing into the kitchen and kicking the giant slug repeatedly in the face with increasing vehemence.

"Hermione!" he called, running after her and wrapping his arms around her as she continued to deal violent kicks at slug-Ron. "Hermione, my love," he said softer, into her ear as he pulled her bodily away, still spitting curses. Harry sat down with her on his lap. Gradually she stopped struggling and shouting, only to turn and bury her face in his chest. Her sobbing was even more profound than it had been the last hour when they were outside mourning the deaths of Rose, Angus, and the others at the inn. "How did things get so screwed up?" she croaked through the tears. "How did we let them get so screwed up?"

Suddenly she stopped crying and looked up at slug-Ron and then at Harry. Her face was still beet red and streaked with tears, but there was the fire of fierce determination in her brown eyes. "How did he find us? How did he get past the wards and into the tent? Is anyone else from the Order coming?"

"Get the Veritaserum," Harry said quickly as they both stood up, jumping into action mode. While Hermione dug in her beaded for the remains of her supply of the truth potion, Harry cast the counter-curse to the slug transfiguration on Ron. Grabbing him by the front of his robes, Harry slammed his former friend down onto the table, not too gently. He bound Ron there with thick ropes from his wand, not before relieving him of two more wands. They were gaining quite the collection of spares from Ron. Grim faced, Harry stopped the bleeding from Ron's broken nose, but purposefully neglected to set it.

"You interrogate him," Harry said to Hermione when she rejoined him, "I'll stand watch just outside the door, in case any others are around." He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, which was still salty from her tears, "Call me if you need me."

"I'll always need you, Harry," she said quietly, kissing him forcefully on the mouth. "Sorry for losing it just then." Harry smiled reassuringly at her. How many times had she calmed him down in similar situations in the past? She smiled back at him, her thoughts along the same line. Then her soft expression became ice as she turned back to Ron.

Harry kept one foot and leg inside the tent, but the rest of him was outside, wand held ready, scanning the dark forest for any sign of intruders. One ear was tuned to the night, the other to Hermione and Ron inside. After an initial round of pleading and whining, Ron's voice soon became calm under the influence of the Veritaserum as he answered Hermione's rapid fire questions.

"Tethered portkey," said Ron, explaining how he found them.

"What's a tethered portkey?" Hermione asked, echoing Harry's thoughts.

"It's kind of a portkey split in two," Ron answered with a nasal voice, sniffing blood out of his still broken nose. "When you activate it, it takes you directly to the other half, no matter where it is. They're dangerous, since you could materialize under water, or in too small a space for your body. That's why the Ministry outlawed them. They're also really difficult to make. Luckily Dumbledore taught Professor McGonagall how, though it took even her over six months to get it right."

"What was the tether?" Hermione asked.

"Something we knew you'd never go anywhere without," Ron said, deadpan, "your copy of _Hogwarts: a History_".

"F**k!," muttered Hermione to herself before asking more loudly to Ron, "And the other half?"

"In my pocket," he answered, wiggling his fingers that were tied down to his side. Hermione gingerly reached into the nearby pocket and pulled out a nub of a pencil. "That's it," Ron said when she held it up for inspection.

"Are there any others?" Hermione asked, frightened that the Order had such immediate access to them.

"I only know of one more," Ron said.

"What is it?"

"Something we knew Harry would never go anywhere without, besides you that is. It's that picture he has of his parents." This time it was Harry's turn to swear.

"Harry!" Hermione called, suddenly frantic.

"I'm on it!" he called, rushing back into the tent and over to the table next to the bed where he kept the beloved photo. He picked it up and looked sadly at the image of his parents, happy and in love, holding each other and laughing. They were about the same age as he and Hermione when the photo was taken. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry croaked, "I'll take it outside and destroy it."

Hermione nodded, feeling for him. Just as he started through the tent flap, she called, "No, wait, Harry!" She reached into her beaded bag and pulled out a wooden box, similar to the one they were using to store Slytherin's locket. "Put it in here," she said, opening the box. Harry nodded and gingerly set the prized photo into the box. They both smiled slightly when Harry's parents images waved at them as she shut the lid. Hermione cast a quick spell sealing the box. "We might find some use for it later. For now, if anyone tries to use the portkey, they'll be forced to fit in the box. The spell I just put on it won't let it expand or burst." Harry smiled appreciatively at Hermione. She was always thinking ahead.

"Speaking of the portkey," Harry said turning to Ron, "our wards and enchantments should have stopped even a portkey from getting through. Just how did you get past them and into the tent?"

"I didn't," Ron responded unhelpfully.

"Of course you did," snapped Hermione poking her wand into his bruised face.

"No," Ron said quickly, "You didn't have any wards up when I came here. I've been in this stupid tent for over a week."

"A week?" Harry asked, confused.

"But we didn't use the tent for nearly two weeks," Hermione said, puzzled. "It's been folded up in my bag the whole time."

"Yeah," grunted Ron, "but it's a wizarding tent. It's always set up inside, even when it's not, you know, set up. Didn't you ever wonder why your stuff wasn't jumbled up all over the place when you unfolded it? You obviously left your book sitting out on the table the last time you used the tent, so when I activated the portkey I just appeared here inside. I was glad you didn't have the book just loose in your beaded bag. That would have been really weird."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. As proficient and accustomed magic they had become over the last six years, they were still surprised by it. Sometimes weird just didn't describe magic well enough to people raised by Muggles.

"Are there any other members of the Order here, or nearby?" Harry asked, his mind turning from the mysteries of magic to the dangers at hand.

"No, just me. The Order still doesn't even know you've got your memories back, or that you left me stuck back at Headquarters."

"How did you get away from Grimmauld Place? Did Yaxley let you go? Is Kreacher all right?" Hermione asked.

"Yaxley? The Death Eater?" Ron responded, furrowing his brow. "Oh, you must mean the other guy the elf took prisoner. He complained that he had two of us to feed now. I figured he caught someone else from the Order trying to come see us since I haven't reported in for weeks. Never thought it was a Death Eater."

"But how'd you escape?" Hermione asked again.

"I told the elf I remembered some important things that you needed to know about Horcruxes. I asked for something to write with so I could give him a letter to get to you. I mentioned I had some parchment and a pencil in my rucksack. He brought them to me. And here I am!"

"And Kreacher?" Hermione prompted. "Is he OK?"

"I guess, probably pissed off and punishing himself for letting me get away."

"Is there any other way for the Order to find us?" Harry asked.

"Not that I know of," Ron replied.

That statement didn't reassure Harry or Hermione one bit. They stupefied Ron again and began pulling out everything they had with them, scanning it with revealing spells to look for tracking charms or additional portkeys. It was dawn before they had finished with the mountain of clothes, books, potions, and other supplies Hermione had in her beaded bag, plus everything else that was stored in the spacious tent. Fortunately or unfortunately, they didn't find anything suspicious.

"Harry," Hermione said, stifling her third giant yawn. "Did you notice how little food was left?" He nodded, throwing a scowl at Ron's still figure on the table. "We had more than a month's worth of food for the two of us. He ate most of it in a week!"

Harry shook his head and sighed. "We'll deal with that later. Right now, let's go to bed," he said gently when Hermione's face split with yet another huge yawn. They threw a blanket over Ron, covering his face. Hermione cast a silencing spell over his form. Then the two exhausted teens stripped their blood-stained dress clothes off and crawled into the camp bed they shared, pulling the covers up over their naked bodies. They'd stopped wearing anything to bed ever since they left Grimmauld Place, for reasons that were half sexual and half comforting, wanting always the reassurance of having as little between them as possible. By now it was just second nature.

"Harry?" asked Hermione in a small voice once she had settled into her now accustomed spot in his armpit.

"Hmm?" he said, waking up a little at the sound of imminent tears he sensed in her voice.

"How do you cope with it all?" she said, her voice cracking now. "I keep seeing their faces when they died. I keep feeling their blood sp…sp…splattering on everything…on me. The screams keep echoing through my head." She paused, still fighting back a sob. "I never really got how hard it must be for you. Seeing such horrible things. Does this awful feeling ever go away? How do you manage to go on?" Tears were streaming down her face now, splashing on his bare chest.

Harry hugged her close and kissed her forehead. "I'm not going to lie to you," he said sadly, "the feeling never goes away." She nodded in stoic acceptance, biting her trembling lower lip. "How do I manage to go on?" he continued after a long moment. Looking her in the eyes, he smiled, "Easy. I've always had you. You've always been there when I need you, you've always been the one to pull me through the worst of times." He was silent, thinking back at the many instances when he'd been ready to call it quits, to just wither away and die, wallowing in his own grief and self-pity, unable to live with the horror of his life, hopeless. Each time, she would be there, his Hermione, coaxing him out of his shell and back into the world, giving him the strength and desire to go on.

"Remember that Christmas at Grimmauld Place? Fifth year? When Umbridge was at Hogwarts?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded, looking at him closely, still biting her lower lip to hold back the sobs that were about to break loose. "I was at rock bottom then. Cedric was dead because of me; I 'saw' Mr. Weasley being attacked; the Ministry was making sure everyone believed I was lying about Riddle being back; Dumbledore refused to even look at me the whole term; and Umbridge was torturing me in detention. I locked myself away in my room and wouldn't come out, no matter how much the Weasleys pleaded. Suddenly there you were, ready to break the door down to make me talk to you. You weren't even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be skiing with your parents, being a normal kid on holiday with her family. Instead you gave that up and rushed over to rescue me from myself one more time. You were like an angel standing in my doorway, so beautiful, so determined to save me. There were still snowflakes in your hair." He casually ran his fingers through her now short curls, vividly remembering the sight of her then. "I wonder why Dumbledore or the others didn't erase that memory," he asked. "I fell in love with you all over again at that moment. You are always there to pull me through the bad times, Hermione. I hope I can do the same for you."

"I love you, Harry," Hermione murmured, kissing him, her tears dripping onto his face. "Let's promise that we'll always be there to save each other," she said, kissing him again, then settling back in his armpit.

They stopped talking, but either of them slept much. They just held each other and occasionally cried, with scenes of the violence at the inn flashing through their minds. It was midday when they finally gave up trying to sleep. They pulled themselves from bed, sunken-eyed and exhausted.

"What should we do about Ron?" Harry asked after they made some tea and were munching half-heartedly on pieces of dry toast.

"We could turn him back into the giant slug and dump him in the river," Hermione suggested without a hint of humor in her voice. She was developing a rather vindictive streak where it came to Ron.

Harry smiled, "He doesn't know where we are, does he?"

"Other than being in the tent? No, I shouldn't think so. We never mentioned where we are and he hasn't been outside to see for himself, not that he'd recognize it anyway."

"Why don't we just send him back to the Order?" Harry thought out loud. "I'll bet that portkey can work in both directions."

"Why would we want to give him back to them?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"We can't keep him with us and it would be a message to the Order," Harry said, "that we're done with them. That we're not following Dumbledore's stupid plan anymore. That we don't need them."

"I suppose," replied Hermione, doubtfully. "I still think we should just dump him in the river," she muttered.

"Do you think you can activate the portkey?"

"The theory's simple enough," she said, squinting and reaching into her bag for a book of spells.

An hour later they were ready. They woke Ron and told him what they were going to do. He looked afraid, but wouldn't say if it was because he didn't know where the portkey would take him, or because he didn't want to carry their message back to the Order and face the consequences of failing in his mission to control Harry and Hermione.

"Remember, Ron," Harry said as Hermione took out the box holding the picture of his parents, "tell the Order that no matter how noble they think their goals, we consider them no better than the Death Eaters in their methods. We will do what we can to stop Tom Riddle, but we'll do it our own way, not Dumbledore's." Harry nodded at Hermione, who tucked the photo under the ropes still binding Ron. She took out her wand and waved it slowly, mumbling the spell to activate the portkey. The photo began to glow blue. Neither of them noticed that Ron had worked a hand and arm free from the ropes.

"Harry," Hermione said, looking up at him with a smile, "Do you think we sh…"

Harry never heard the rest of her sentence. The portkey flashed bright blue and both Ron and Hermione disappeared.

"Oh crap!" shouted Harry, his heart sinking to his stomach as he rushed to the empty table, then fell hopelessly to his knees. "Hermione!"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N#1: See Chapter 1 disclaimer, it applies to all chapters._

_A/N#2: I've finally gotten all the other chapters outlined, so updates should come a little quicker. I apologize for the delay on this chapter. I've had a bit of a mid-story block. I know exactly where the story is going and how it will end up, but I just had a bit of a problem getting the characters to go where I want them to go. I also struggled with writing Harry alone, since Hermione is my favorite character and putting the two of them together and interacting is the whole point of writing this in the first place._

Chapter Eight

Harry flipped the camp table over with an incoherent shout. Turning wildly, he kicked at the shelf next to the basin, sending pots and pans clattering to the floor. "Damn it!" he growled, grabbing a plate and throwing it across the room to shatter against one of the wooden posts holding the tent up. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" he continued to shout as he futilely vent his anger by throwing or knocking over every loose item within reach. "_Why?"_ was the only thought that could penetrate his raging mind. Voldemort, the Dursleys, Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, the Weasleys, all of them seemed to devote their lives to the single-minded task of making his existence a living hell. The only ray of sunshine he'd ever had was in the form of a bushy-haired, bucktoothed bookworm, whom he loved with all his heart…and now they'd taken her away from him…again.

Like a cyclone, he left a random path of destruction behind him as he moved haphazardly through the tent. Nothing was spared his unthinking fury, at least until he picked up a heavy book and was about to throw it against a wall of the tent. Lifting it over his head he noticed the title, _Hogwarts: A History_. Lowering it, he stared at the book. Sitting down abruptly on the only chair he hadn't managed to overturn, he touched the cover hesitantly, then opened it. "Property of Hermione J. Granger, Witch" was written on the first page in rounded, childish script. A smile threatened to break through his scowl as Harry tenderly touched the name of his best friend, his lover, his fiancée, his meaning of life.

Hermione was probably eleven years old when she wrote that. She was so proud to be a witch, excited to be heading off to the best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the United Kingdom. He thought she was incredibly cute when he'd first met her, already wearing her school uniform on the train, helping poor Neville look for his missing toad, insisting Ron show her his spell to turn his rat, Scabbers, yellow. It was just like her: helping other people in need, intrigued with learning new things, and eager to show everyone that she deserved to be there. They were so innocent then. They didn't know that Scabbers was really Peter Pettigrew, the so-called friend who had betrayed Harry's parents, leading to their deaths and to Sirius' wrongful imprisonment, and who had later killed Cedric and helped Voldemort gain a new body using Harry's blood. Harry and Hermione didn't know then that they would fall in love, or that Ron, their own so-called best friend, would similarly betray their trust so many times. They didn't know that they were just pawns in a war between Voldemort and Dumbledore, simply to be used and abused by either, with no thought given to their wants, needs, or desires. And they certainly didn't know that this book, the one that Hermione lovingly quoted like a bible, would become another of the many tools of their unwitting manipulation.

Harry closed his eyes, picturing his love, fighting back the tears that were welling in his eyes. What was he supposed to do without her? How could he go on? Then he felt the fire of resolve grow in his heart. He knew he had to get her back. But how?

"What would Hermione do?" he asked himself out loud after a while. Wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve, his eyes fell on the "Wall of Mysteries" that he and Hermione had made in an attempt to organize their thoughts on all that had happened to them and all they needed to do to end this fight. Most of the notes were about Tom Riddle and his horcruxes, but one section was about Dumbledore and his "Plan for the Greater Good", as they had labeled it. Staring at the names of those who had obliviated and manipulated them over the years, Harry came to a sudden decision.

He appeared with an loud crack. Once he had chosen a course of action, it hadn't taken Harry long to break down the campsite and pack everything into Hermione's beaded bag, which now hung from his belt. He had apparated onto the crest of a small hill. Behind him was the small Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole. In front of him lay the haphazardly built home of the Weasley family. Not so long ago, Harry thought of the Burrow as the closest thing he had to a real home, and that boisterous bunch of redheads his surrogate family. Now the building and people were just obstacles to finding his true home: the arms of a curly haired, Muggleborn girl who'd promised to marry him and whom he already thought of as his real family. He'd chosen the Burrow as the first place to look for Hermione, guessing that Molly Weasley would be holding the other half of the portkey tethered to his picture of his parents.

It was a sunny afternoon, but Harry immediately felt a deathly chill permeate through his body as he stood in the tall grass on the hill. The feelings of despair he already had about losing Hermione intensified to crippling levels. Looking down on the Burrow, he discovered it was surrounded by Dementors, at least six of them floating in the air, their black cloaks waving in an otherworldly breeze. Through the windows of the house Harry could see masked Death Eaters moving about inside, apparently ransacking the place. He watched in horror as two Death Eaters dragged a misshapen body in maroon pajamas out the door and into the garden. It was the family ghoul, who'd been masquerading as Ron with a case of spattergroit. A green flash from one of the Death Eater's wands spelled the end of the ghoul. So much for Ron's excuse for not being at Hogwarts this term.

Harry's feelings of despair and terror became even worse. He fell to his hands and knees, hearing a woman screaming in his head. In the past, the presence of a Dementor brought back memories of his mother's death, but this time the voice he heard screaming was Hermione's. Harry noticed ice forming on the grass beneath his hands. Looking up, he realized that three of the Dementors were quickly gliding up the hill toward him. He didn't know if Dementors could see through invisibility cloaks, or if they could even see at all, but obviously they sensed his presence. He knew casting a Patronus charm to keep them away would only alert the Death Eaters. He had to apparate right away, but he failed on the first two tries, increasing his feelings of impending doom. He was too distracted and terrified to concentrate properly. Dimly, in the back of his mind, quietly penetrating the screaming in his head, Harry heard Hermione's lecturing voice reciting Wilkie Twycross's lesson on the fundamentals of apparition: "Destination, Determination, and Deliberation." Closing his eyes to the sight of the Dementors who were almost close enough to touch him with their long, bony fingers, Harry cleared his mind and turned on the spot, disapparating away with a crack.

Gasping for breath, Harry reappeared in the clearing in the Forest of Dean. Collapsing on the ground, he started to pat his hands up and down his body, worried that he had splinched himself in his terrified haste to get away from the Dementors. Luckily, he was whole. Waiting until his heart rate slowed down, Harry realized that wherever the Weasley's were hiding, it wasn't at the Burrow anymore.

Pulling his cloak off, he sat on a rock and tried to imagine what Hermione's reasoning would be to solve the current problem. Unfortunately, just the thought of Hermione brought her face into his mind, pushing all other rational thought out. He could hear her laugh, her voice calling his name, telling him she loved him. He could still smell her hair and that musky sweet scent she had after they made love. He could feel her hand clasped warmly in his, her lips kissing him tenderly, her soft skin against his as they held each other in bed. He could taste the toothpaste on her breath because she insisted on brushing and flossing after every meal. Memories of Hermione filled him completely. What if she never filled his senses again?

"Bugger!" he snorted, jumping up in anger at his own helplessness. He dug in the beaded bag and pulled out the Marauder's Map of Hogwarts. Maybe the member of the Order with the other half of the portkey was at the school, or had taken her there. Harry sat down again and unfolded the parchment. He was surprised to see so many labeled dots moving around on the map. He forgot that the school year had started almost three weeks ago. In fact, it started the same day that he and Hermione went to the Ministry to get the locket.

Harry scanned over the map for any sign of Hermione. She wasn't in Gryffindor Tower, but he did see Neville and Ginny's names in the common room. Surprisingly, Luna Lovegood was also with them, despite belonging to Ravenclaw. Moving on through the Castle, Harry saw that the Great Hall and Library were nearly empty, but the Hospital Wing seemed to be inordinately full of students in the rows of beds. He scanned through the corridors, perplexed at the number of Slytherins that seemed to be out in the halls during a class period. Then Harry happened to glance at the Headmaster's Office.

He expected that McGonagall would have been made official Headmistress after Dumbledore's death, but was surprised to see the name Severus Snape next to the dot at the Headmaster's desk. Across from Snape was another dot labeled Amycus Carrow. Wasn't he one of the Death Eater's that had been on the Astronomy Tower the night Dumbledore was killed? Looking around the map some more, Harry saw the name Alecto Carrow in front of a class of students in the Muggle Studies room. Obviously, in addition to taking over the Ministry, Voldemort's supporters were now in charge of Hogwarts and Snape was still in the role of loyal Death Eater. Whatever game Snape was playing, it didn't seem to be doing the students at Hogwarts much good. Probably something Dumbledore cooked up, ignoring the sacrifices of the innocent, even children, all for the greater good. Harry kept looking at the map. He recognized a few more Death Eater names moving about the school. Nowhere did he find any evidence of Hermione.

He finally put the map away and picked up the beaded bag, tying the drawstring onto his belt again. He still thought Molly was the most likely culprit to have Hermione. He guessed that she and Arthur went to a relative's house for safety. Maybe to Bill and Fleur's or to Molly's Aunt Muriel's place. But Harry didn't know where either house was. What he needed was the Wizard equivalent of a phone book, if such a thing existed. He let out an angry curse that he might not find Hermione until it was too late. He knew the Order wouldn't physically hurt her, but they could obliviate her and put her under compulsions to act against him. They might even make her become Ron's girlfriend again. "Over my dead body," Harry vowed, pacing back and forth in the clearing.

Suddenly he stopped moving and cocked his head, listening. Were those voices he heard? Quickly he threw the invisibility cloak over himself, realizing that he had forgotten to do any of the protective charms on his return to the campsite. Pulling out his wand, he crouched, holding his breath and hoping that whoever it was would just go past. Hopefully it was just Muggles out for a hike in the forest. Unfortunately his luck remained bad that day.

"Over this way," Harry heard a harsh voice say. "I swear it sounded like someone apparating. I heard a voice, too."

"Alright, Greyback, we believe you. We don't all have wolf senses, you know" came another voice, followed by some incoherent growling and mumbling.

"We're coming!" a third voice called.

"Quiet down," hissed the first voice, Greyback. "You two go 'round that way, and you that way. I'll go up the middle. We'll have 'em surrounded."

"Oooh," came another, somewhat stupid sounding voice, "I hope it's a Mudblood. The bounty's higher on them, and they always try to run."

"I like it when they run," barked Greyback with a sinister chuckle. "Now stay quiet and get over there. I don't see anyone yet, but I can smell him and he smells scared."

The last thing a panicking Harry saw was the hulking form of Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf who had turned Remus Lupin as a child and gleefully did Voldemort's dirty work, as long as it meant killing or maiming or turning more children into werewolves. Greyback and three tough looking wizards burst into the clearing just as Harry turned on the spot and apparated away to the only place that came to mind.

This time Harry appeared on the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld Place, the once-forbidding house he and Hermione had begun to call home just weeks ago. The news from Ron that Yaxley was apprehended by Kreacher suddenly came back to him. If that happened before Yaxley could let other Death Eater's past the Fidelius charm, then the house was still safe! Harry stepped inside and closed the door. Before he even finished pulling off the cloak, Kreacher appeared with a crack, bowing and saying in an uncharacteristically excited voice, "Master is home! Master is unhurt!"

"Kreacher!" Harry said softly. "Are we safe? Is anyone else here?"

"The house of Black is secure," replied the ancient elf. "The only other here is the bad man who tried to hurt Master and Mistress." Suddenly Kreacher began banging his head against the wall. Harry realized that the elf's head was bruised and bandaged. "Kreacher has failed the houses of Black and Potter!" he wailed in between thumps. "He let the traitor Weasley get away! Master must punish Kreacher! Torture him! Give Kreacher c..c..clothes!"

Harry knelt and physically restrained the old elf. "Kreacher! Kreacher! Stop it! It's okay! Kreacher, I order you to stop punishing yourself!" Reluctantly the elf ceased his self abuse, but refused to look up at Harry. "Kreacher, there was nothing you could do about it. I don't blame you. Kreacher, listen to me. You've done great. I'm very proud of you. But now I need your help. Ron came and took Hermione away from me. I need to find her. Do you know…"

"Mistress is safe!" Kreacher interrupted, looking up at Harry with a glimmer of happiness in his sad, old eyes.

"She's here!" Harry shouted jumping up to run look for her.

"No," said Kreacher sadly, pulling on Harry's sleeve to stop him. "Mistress is safe, but not here."

"Then how do you know?" Harry asked frantic. "Where is she?"

"Kreacher knows. A house elf always knows where his masters are and how they are," he explained as if it were obvious.

"You mean you always knew where I was? Because I'm your master?" Harry asked, surprised. Even after six years in the wizarding world, there was still so much he didn't know. "What about Hermione? You know where she is all the time, too?"

"Kreacher is bonded to Master and Master is bonded to Mistress, therefore Kreacher is bonded to Mistress." The old elf seemed to be rather confused as to why Harry didn't know any of the basic facts of life of a house elf and his owners. "A house elf must know where his masters are so that he may come to them when called."

"You mean," Harry exhaled in disbelief, "we could've called you anytime in the last few weeks and you would've come to us?"

"Of course, Master," the elf responded. "Kreacher wonders why Master doesn't call him, but Kreacher is a good elf and doesn't disturb Master and Mistress."

"Where is Mistr….um, I mean… where is Hermione?" Harry asked, hope rising in his heart.

"Mistress is at Prewett Manor," Kreacher said. "She has been there for several hours."

"Prewett Manor?" Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "Prewett? That's Mrs. Weasley's maiden name, isn't it? Is Prewett Manor owned by Muriel Prewett? Ron's Great Aunt?" Kreacher nodded affirmation. "Kreacher, you wonderful elf! Can you take me there?"

Kreacher squinted, then shook his head sadly. "Kreacher cannot."

"What! Is it warded? I thought a house elf could get through a wizard's wards."

"Prewett Manor has wizard wards," Kreacher said, "but that is not the reason. The house is also protected by elf wards. Kreacher cannot penetrate elf wards without the permission of the Prewett Manor head elf."

"Oh," said Harry dejectedly. "Wait! Can you take me close to the house?"

"Of course Kreacher can!" replied the elf suddenly happy, then he squinted and frowned again. "There are followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named watching the house. That is why it is so heavily protected."

"The Death Eaters must know they're hiding inside," Harry said, pacing back and forth. "I may have to fight my way through both Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. Kreacher, can you take me as near as you can to the house, but where no one inside or outside the house will see? Then you can come back here where it's safe while I try to break Hermione out."

Kreacher nodded, "Yes Master. But Master must not do this alone. Kreacher does not abandon Master. Even with Kreacher, Master may fail. Master needs help." Suddenly, there was a crack of apparition in the hallway. Harry whirled around, wand ready, a spell on his lips. He was surprised by what he saw.

"Dobby!" Harry shouted. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry Potter, sir!" the free elf shouted, running to give Harry's knees a hug. "Kreacher tells Dobby that Harry Potter needs help, so Dobby is here!"

"You can talk to other elves anywhere?" Harry asked Kreacher, who nodded, again a little disappointed with his new Master's lack of knowledge. Harry ignored the look and turned back to the first elf he'd ever met. "Are you okay, Dobby?" Harry asked, concerned that the younger elf was looking rather thin and that his once colorful, albeit mismatched, clothes were filthy and torn.

"Dobby has no employment, sir!" the elf sobbed. "Dobby was sacked from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when Professor Snape became Headmaster!" Kreacher shook his head in disgust, both at the thought of a house elf being employed for pay and, even worse, at the thought of one being let go.

"Dobby," Harry said firmly. "You can work for me if you want. I will pay you twice what they paid you at Hogwarts. Three times if you let me."

"Dobby will work for Harry Potter for free!" the elf responded, delighted. When Harry insisted he be paid, he said, "Dobby will be taking half what he earned at Hogwarts, if Harry Potter insists, but Dobby will go no higher."

Harry nodded, then chuckled at the reverse negotiation that just occurred, then he turned to Kreacher. "Kreacher, despite our rocky start, you have proven a good friend. If you want to be free and to be paid to work for me, I would be happy to do that." So would Mistress, he thought to himself with a laugh.

"Master!" screeched the ancient elf who dropped to his knees and began pounding his head on the floor again. "Kreacher will work twice as hard to please the Master and Mistress! Do not punish Kreacher so!"

"Okay! Okay!" Harry called frantically, shaking his head. "You can stay as my house elf, with no pay." Maybe someday Hermione would be able to talk some sense into the old elf, but Harry doubted it.

Placated, Kreacher stood on one side of Harry, taking his hand. Dobby stood on the other side, also reaching up for his hand. Before he could take it, Harry grabbed the cloak from the floor and threw it over the three of them. "Let's go get Hermione," he said grimly. With a crack they disappeared from Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher took them to what appeared to be a grassy meadow dotted with a few stands of trees. Night was starting to fall. Harry looked around in the dim light and asked, "Where's the Manor? Where are the Death Eaters?"

Dobby pointed in one direction, and Kreacher in the other. "One bad man is on the hill on the other side of the house," Dobby whispered. "He is watching the house but cannot see here."

"The other is there," Kreacher said pointing to their left. "He is in the tree by the gate. He is not a very good watcher. He is asleep."

"What house? What gate?" Harry asked. "Oh! It must be hidden by a Fidelius charm, just like Grimmauld Place! You two can see the house?" The elves nodded, Dobby with enthusiasm, and Kreacher with a grimace that conveyed his growing frustration with his Master's ignorance of house elf abilities. "Where is the house?" he asked. Both elves pointed at the meadow directly in front of them.

Harry stepped forward, but instantly he felt a repulsive force pushing him back. He tried harder, but only found himself thrown to the ground, the cloak falling from him. "Harry Potter must stop trying to go through the wizard wards! Those inside will know Harry Potter is here now," Dobby said with a loud stage whisper.

"Can you get me past the wizard wards?" he asked, but then worried about making noise that would alert the Death Eaters. "Can we get past them without apparating?"

"Kreacher can do that, if Dobby helps." said the old elf, nodding approval at the younger elf's eager agreement. "The wizard wards are on the gardens, the elf wards are on the Manor. Dobby and Kreacher can get Master through into the gardens, but not into the mansion." Harry put the cloak over the three of them again. Hand-in-hand they walked a little to the left. Kreacher and Dobby stiffened in concentration, then lead Harry forward, step by step. He felt the wizard wards pushing back against them. It was like walking through treacle, but they were moving forward. Suddenly they staggered and felt the force release them. They were through! Harry could now see that instead of stepping into an empty meadow they had just stepped through a hole in a tall hedge surrounding carefully tended gardens leading up to a stately manor with many windows.

Slowly and quietly, they walked toward the house. As they approached, Harry suddenly saw flashes of colored light coming the windows on the second floor. He realized it was coming from inside the house. Spells were being cast. Lots of them. "Hermione!" he gasped in worry.

"Master!" Kreacher hissed. "Mistress is needing us!"

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, running at the house, dragging the two short-legged elves with him. Kreacher and Dobby shrieked when they hit the elf wards. They felt different than the wizard wards, sharp points of resistance, like walking into a wall of nails. Harry's pace slowed, a look a anger and determination on his face. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Hermione now. Shouting against the pain and leaning into the force of the ward, he pushed on, his only thought was his need to save his love. Suddenly the resistance and pain were gone and the three rescuers stumbled onto the front porch.

"Harry Potter did it, sir!" Dobby exclaimed with weak astonishment. "The elf wards are down!" Kreacher and Dobby looked at Harry with a mixture of pride and awe.

Dragging the short-legged elves with him, Harry dashed to the front door and threw it open, fear for Hermione was greater than his desire to keep quiet anymore. He heard scuffling and shouting from somewhere upstairs, and the sound of spells being deflected. They ran up the sweeping front staircase and down a long hallway. Harry stopped and listened. He could no longer hear any noises at all. The hallway was full of closed doors. Which one?

Remembering what Kreacher said earlier, he knelt and whispered urgently to the elves, "Which room is Hermione in?" They both pointed at the same door, third on the right. Harry nodded, then whispered again, "Dobby, you apparate to one end of the room, while Kreacher, you take me to the other end closest to Hermione. Can you stun wizards?"

"If the wizard is threatening Master or Mistress, we can stun them," Kreacher said, and Dobby nodded. Harry remembered Dobby protecting him from Lucius Malfoy's curse in second year.

"Okay," Harry said, looking at the door. "Stun anyone who tries to harm any of us. Since you're working for me, consider any attack on yourselves an attack on me." Not wanting to be hindered by the cloak, Harry quickly took it off and stuffed it in into the bag at his hip. Then he pulled out his spare wand and checked that his third wand was readily accessibly up his sleeve. "Okay, ready?" he asked the nodding elves. "Now!"

Harry and the elves appeared in a long room. Harry was facing a wall of bookcases. The room was silent. Against the books were several figures wrapped in thick ropes. Their eyes were wide with astonishment, but they appeared frozen. Before he could turn and look at the rest of the room, Harry heard an accusing voice from behind him.

"So, what took you so long?"


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: See Chapter 1 disclaimer, it applies to all chapters._

Chapter Nine

"_So, what took you so long?" _

That mockingly accusatory phrase was said in the most welcome voice Harry could imagine hearing. He turned to the speaker and found himself bowled over by one of her patented, bone-shattering "Hermione hugs". This one was so fierce that it toppled them both to the floor. He laughed as she peppered his face with kisses.

"Hermione!" he gasped when she eventually let him breath again. "You're sort of ruining my big rescue of the damsel in distress." She snorted, but was smiling broadly as she sat up, still straddling him. Harry rose to his elbows and looked around the room. It was a large sitting room, with a fireplace and comfortable furniture scattered around. Along one wall was a bookcase. Up against the books were eight figures. The first was a giant yellow slug hanging upside down, covered in angry red boils. Next to the slug, lined up in a row, were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Great Aunt Muriel, and a surprised looking house elf. All were petrified and wrapped in thick ropes. Like her youngest son, Mrs. Weasley's face was thickly dotted with oozing boils.

Harry looked up at his girlfriend and asked seriously, "Are you okay?"

"I am now that you're here," Hermione said with a chuckle, getting off him and giving him a hand up. "Don't worry, they didn't get a chance to do anything bad to me. I've still got all my memories, and no unwanted compulsions." They stood staring at each other, a long reassuring and reaffirming conversation playing out silently between them. Hermione nodded and Harry smiled thoughtfully. Smiling back, Hermione turned to look at the elves that had accompanied Harry. "Dobby! Kreacher! It's wonderful to see you both! Thank you for helping Harry find me!" Dobby smiled, bobbing up and down with excitement. Kreacher bowed his head respectfully, though Harry thought he caught a brief smile of pleasure at his Mistress' words before relaxing his face into its customary scowl. Hermione bent over and hugged them both.

"Hermione," Harry said, looking again at the people against the wall. "Here I was, all worried sick about you, only to find that, as usual, you had complete control of the situation." He shook his head with pride, "You do realise, don't you, that you've taken out six trained members of the Order of the Phoenix. Two of them Aurors! Plus a house elf and Great Aunt Muriel! You're amazing, you are!"

"And don't you forget it, Potter," Hermione said with a laugh, giving him a big hug, followed by an even bigger kiss. Harry felt all the worry and despair of the last day slip away under the passionate ministrations of his lover's lips and tongue. He wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss with even greater passion. "Wow!" gasped Hermione, when they finally pulled their mouths apart. "I should get kidnapped more often, if that's the way you greet me when we get back together."

"I thought I lost you," Harry said softly, his voice catching.

"You can never lose me, Harry," she said, kissing him on the nose. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me forever. I'll always find my way back to you, if you don't find me first." Harry nodded, wanting her to make it a promise, but held his tongue. He knew that neither of them could really keep a promise like that, especially given what they were up against.

"Tell me everything that happened," Harry said a few moments later after he sent Dobby to check on the Death Eaters outside, who were still unaware of their presence, and Kreacher to place his own elf-ward around the house.

"Apparently," Hermione said as they sat down on a loveseat holding hands, "Ron managed to work an arm loose from the ropes. Just as I activated the portkey he grabbed it and touched it to my arm. Next thing I knew, we were both here in the middle of Ron's Great Aunt Muriel's sitting room while everyone was having tea. It turns out the picture of your parents is tethered to one of Molly's knitting needles!" She pointed to the photograph and needle, sitting on a nearby table next to a neat stack of a dozen or so wands, presumably confiscated from the people against the bookcase.

"Anyway," she continued, "they were quite startled when we appeared out of nowhere, but Mrs. Weasley reacted quickly and disarmed and petrified me." Then she laughed, "But not before I got a few good hexes off at her and Ron." She threw a scowl at the mother and son. "They couldn't figure out how to turn Ron back from a slug, or get rid of the boils!" she exclaimed proudly.

"That's my Hermione!" Harry laughed with her. "Brilliant but scary!"

"Professor Lupin and Tonks didn't understand why I was fighting against them," she continued more seriously. "Mrs. Weasley told them it was secret Order business. Lupin was furious. He demanded to be let in on whatever secret it was, since they were part of the Order too. That lead to a huge argument, with Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Shacklebolt on one side and Tonks and Lupin on the other, and poor Mr. Weasley stuck in the middle, mostly confused about it all. Aunt Muriel kept out of it, but wanted to know if I was that skinny-ankled, homely girl that her grand-nephew was all a-twitter about. I should have given her boils, too," she added under her breath, giving the elderly woman a glare.

"You've got sexy ankles, Hermione," Harry said sincerely, "And you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me." Hermione smiled lovingly at him, then kissed him again before continuing with her story.

"They argued for ages, with me still petrified on the floor. Finally Mrs. Weasley gained the upper hand. She claimed that she was operating on Dumbledore's orders and that the others had just better suck it up if he never trusted them enough to let them in on the whole of his plan. Tonks and Lupin really weren't happy about that at all, but when Shacklebolt said he knew the plan and that Molly was telling the truth, they eventually acquiesced. He sent the two of them and Aunt Muriel from the room. Since Ron was in no shape to talk they gave me Veritaserum and made me tell them everything that's happened since Bill and Fleur's wedding. Mrs. Weasley was not pleased that we had our memories back, nor that Ron wasn't able to keep us under control. She was even more upset when she found out we're engaged!" She glanced down at the transfigured ring on her finger.

"I'll bet," Harry chortled, squeezing her hand. "That doesn't fit in Dumbledore's plan, does it? But how did you get free to petrify them all?"

"I have a confession to make," Hermione blushed, looking down and rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand in her lap. "It was all because of you."

"Me? How?"

"Mr. Shacklebolt had unpetrified me for the interrogation and Mrs. Weasley was getting ready to obliviate me again. They thought I wasn't a threat anymore, so I bided my time waiting for the right moment. With both of them holding wands on me, I didn't know if I would get any chance, but your arrival gave me the distraction I was hoping for. Tonks and Professor Lupin ran in and frantically announced that someone just walked through the outer wards. That's when I pulled out my spare wands and started casting hexes as fast as I could at everyone. They never even searched me for extra wands! Even though we lifted the idea of carrying spares from them," she said shaking her head. "Anyway, I petrified Mr. and Mrs. Weasley right away, then caught Professor Lupin when he jumped in front of Tonks to protect her. It was touch and go for a few minutes with her and Kingsley, but then Mrs. Prewett and the house elf came in and said that someone was breaking through the elf wards on the house. They were confused enough that it was easy for me to finish the rest of them off."

"But how'd you manage to stun an elf?" Harry asked, curious.

"I'm not sure, but I think she was using a lot of her magic to keep you from getting through her wards. She's the only elf left at the house. Apparently the Prewett fortune is fading. When you broke through she sort of shrieked, as if in pain. My spells seemed to work on her then." Hermione looked apologetically at the little elf. Then she looked at Harry quizzically, "How _did_ you get through the wards?"

"Kreacher and Dobby got us through the outer, wizard wards," Harry smiled at the two elves who had returned and were standing guard over the prisoners. "Apparently elves have more power than wizards when it comes to certain things." Hermione nodded, the look in her eyes indicating she knew a lot more than he did about elf and wizard magic, most likely from her research for S.P.E.W. Harry shrugged. "As for the elf wards, I'm not sure. I saw the fight up here through the windows and knew you were in trouble. I had to get inside. I wasn't going to let anything keep me away from you. I just did it. I don't know how."

"Harry Potter is a great wizard," exclaimed Dobby enthusiastically from across the room.

Kreacher nodded in agreement, "Master has power he knows not."

Harry and Hermione paled and jumped up, running over to the ancient elf. "What did you say?" shouted Harry, incredulous. Kreacher's eyes became wide with shock and he cowered in fear, refusing to answer.

"It's okay, Kreacher," Hermione said soothingly, kneeling down in front of the shaking elf. "Harry isn't angry with you," she said giving Harry a sharp look. "He just wants you to repeat what you said is all."

"Master must punish Kreacher. Kreacher is too bold speaking out of turn," the elf said, his voice quavering with both fear of Harry and disgust with himself.

Harry knelt next to Hermione and reached out to the elf, who flinched, but accepted the gentle touch on his arm. "There's nothing to punish, Kreacher. I want you to speak your mind to me always. It's important that we hear what you said."

"Kreacher said that Master does not know his own strength. Kreacher suspects it comes from Master being raised by fil… by Muggles."

Harry and Hermione shared another silent conversation, green eyes to brown. Both wondered if it was just coincidence that Kreacher's original statement matched the wording of Trelawny's prophecy about Harry. They each knew they would be talking more explicitly about this later, but now was not the time or place.

After a few moments, Harry turned to look at the row of petrified prisoners. "So," he said with a sigh, "what should we do with them?"

"Harry," Hermione said carefully, looking at him like she was about to say something he wouldn't like to hear. "I think we need help." Harry bit back the angry retort he wanted to make. This was Hermione. If there was one thing he learned over the years, it was that he needed to hear her out. Even if he didn't like what she said, she was usually right. He nodded slowly without speaking. She pursed her mouth and continued, "You have to admit we don't know what we're doing. We found one horcrux, just by luck, and got away by the skin of our teeth, but we have no idea where any of the others are. For that matter, we haven't even a clue how to destroy the one we do have. Then there was the disaster at the inn." Tears threatened to spring to her eyes as she thought of the death and destruction they brought with them to that idyllic village.

"You're right…as always," Harry said with another sigh and a slump of his shoulders. "By all rights, we should be dead several times over already, blundering around like we have been. We've been plain lucky." He paused, reaching out to pull her into a hug. "What do you suggest we do? I'm not ready to trust the Order ever again."

"Me neither," she said forcefully, hugging him back. "I'm not sure about the rest of them, but given what Ron said when we interrogated him, I think we should see if those two are really on our side," Hermione said, pointing her chin at Tonks and Lupin.

Harry nodded and stepped over to their werewolf former professor and his young wife. Lifting his wand he said, "Ennervate."

"Harry! Hermione!" shouted Lupin angrily, "What's going on?"

Harry smiled grimly, then said, "First, let's follow the lesson you taught us at the Burrow, Professor."

He looked at Tonks, who was nearer. She was trying to hide a glimmer of fear behind her eyes with false bravado. She, too, was impressed and more than a little frightened by what these two teens had just managed to do. Swallowing her fear, she said nonchalantly, "Wotcher, Harry?"

"Hey Tonks," he replied with a slight grin. "Tell me, at Sirius' house, what piece of furniture would you most like me to _not_ give you for a belated wedding present?"

The young woman frowned for a moment, her purple hair turning brown, then flashing bright pink when she smiled. "That umbrella stand in the entrance hall!" she laughed, "I trip over the bloody thing every time I'm over there!"

Harry nodded, then turned to Lupin, who appeared eager to answer his question. "What did I say to you when you came to Grimmauld Place and tried to get us to let you come along on our quest?"

The thin, careworn man's face fell and he looked from Harry to Tonks, then down at his feet. "You refused to let me," he said reluctantly. "You chastised me for wanting to leave my wife and unborn child." He gulped and continued, "You told me that James would have been disappointed in me, that my top responsibility was to my family, not to taking part in an adventure."

"Thank you for that, Harry" Tonks whispered softly. Lupin and Tonks shared a look, then the haggard former Marauder looked sharply back at Harry and Hermione.

"Turnabout is fair play," he said. "If you're Harry, tell me what happy thought you used when I taught you the Patronus charm."

Harry smiled, "I tried to use the memory of the first time I flew a broom, but you said that wasn't nearly good enough. Then I used a memory of having parents, of having a loving family. That worked to make a shield form of the charm, enough to stop the boggart which was in the form of a dementor." Hermione gave Harry a squeeze around the waist and he smiled at her. "But to make a fully corporeal Patronus, all I've ever had to do is think about Hermione," he said, returning her embrace and kissing her on the forehead.

"Um…Okay…" said Lupin, furrowing his brow in slight confusion at the last part. "Hermione, the year I taught at Hogwarts, what form did your boggart take in my class?"

Hermione blushed bright red and replied, "It turned into Professor McGonagall. She told me I had failed all my exams." Then she added defensively, "I'm not that shallow anymore!"

"No, I never thought you were shallow… just young." Lupin said, looking penetratingly at the two of them. "You two don't seem so young anymore."

"Now that we're all happy that we are who we say we are," interrupted Tonks impatiently, "can I repeat Remus' question? What the bloody hell is going on?"

"That's a long story," Harry said.

"We are, as they say, a captive audience," Lupin replied flatly, looking down at the ropes still encasing them.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry said, not looking either in the eye, "but you'll have to put up with it for a little longer, until we find out where your loyalties lie." The two began to object, but were silenced by Harry raising his hand.

"Tonks?" Hermione asked. "Do you know the obliviation revealing spell?"

"Of course," the still pink-haired young woman responded. "We use it in the Auror Department all the time, to make sure witnesses haven't been tampered with. Why?"

"Watch carefully and verify that I'm casting the correct spell," Hermione ordered, raising her wand to Lupin's startled face. Moments later over a dozen glowing orbs appeared around his head.

"Remus!" Tonks cried. "You've been obliviated!"

"Several times, by the looks of it," he said, eyes wide with shock. He watched as Hermione turned and performed the same spell on his wife. She had fewer orbs than he, but the evidence of having erased memories floated silently about her now flame-red head.

"But!" Tonks cried. "I'm an Auror! We get scanned for memory charms every month!"

"Do you actually remember the last time you were checked?" Harry asked quietly. As the orbs around the couple's heads started fading away.

"Sure! It would have been just before Bill and Fleur's wedding. We always get scanned before a big operation like that."

"But do you remember actually being scanned?" Harry insisted.

Tonks furrowed her now ice-blue eyebrows for a moment, then exclaimed in surprise, "No. In fact, I have no memory of ever being scanned! Why didn't I raise an alert?"

"Who would have checked you?" Hermione asked gently.

"Mad-Eye, of course," she said, "until he died, then…" She shot an accusing eye down the line of petrified Order members. "Kingsley." The look of betrayal on her face was uncomfortably familiar to the young lovers.

"We understand," Hermione said, nodding reassuringly.

"Believe me, we know what you're feeling," agreed Harry. "Much of what we thought we knew was all lies."

"Do you trust us to restore your memories?" asked Hermione. Tonks nodded eagerly, followed by a more reluctant, but accepting, Lupin.

Thirty minutes later the two couples sat on facing loveseats, drinking tea that Kreacher brought for them. Tonks hands shook with anger, spilling tea onto her saucer while Harry and Hermione recounted their part of the story. Lupin was glaring lividly.

"I still can't believe Dumbledore would do such a thing!" he growled. Harry and Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, catching a glimpse of the barely caged wolf within. "We're members of the Order! We're on the same side! That bastard! If Dumbledore were still alive, I'd kill him all over again!" He seemed to calm down some, suddenly getting sad, "Poor Sirius…Poor you two! I can't believe he'd go to such lengths to keep you apart! He went on and on about the power of love, yet he refused to let it flower where it was most needed." Lupin reached across to grasp his pregnant wife's hand. They smiled ruefully at each other.

"What can we do to help you?" Tonks asked, looking up at Harry and Hermione.

"What do you know about the Fidelus charm?" Harry asked.

"What do you think we should do about them?" Hermione asked at the same time, gesturing at the others.

"To answer Harry's question first," smiled Lupin, "quite a bit. I take it you have a place in mind that you want secured?" Harry nodded.

"Before we answer your question, Hermione…" Tonks said as she got up. The young Auror walked purposefully over to stand in front of her boss, snatching her wand from the stack on the table as she passed by. Her hair flashed through half a dozen bright colors during the short trip. Grabbing a chair, she stood on it to look the tall, senior Auror in the face. Staring at his wide eyes for several moments, she suddenly spat in his face. "Kingsley," she said with a barely restrained rage, "I quit!" Then she stuck her wand in his face and, with a deathly calm voice, said, "Stupefy!" The light of awareness went out of Shacklebolt's eyes as he slid into unconsciousness, Tonks' spittle dripping off his nose. The metamorphmagus climbed off the chair and stepped back, her hair now the color of midnight, streaked with white lightning bolts. One by one, she stunned each of the other prisoners. "I quit the Auror Corps! I quit the Order of the Phoenix! I quit our friendship! And I quit blindly following the misguided plans of a bigoted fool!" Stomping back to the loveseat, she sat down with a huff. Lupin took her hand and smiled at her approvingly.

"I believe," he said turning back to Harry and Hermione, "what my passionate wife is trying to say is that you have our complete allegiance."

"Good," said Harry, as Hermione nodded. "Let's get down to business."


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N#1: Sorry this one took so long. I've been busy with work and family. This chapter has less action and loads of mushy fluff and lemons. I just celebrated my anniversary, so my brain is full of fluff and lemons. You'll just have to cope. More action to come in future chapters (also more fluff and lemons, guaranteed)._

_A/N#2: Since it's been so long, here's a brief synopsis of the story so far. Recent readers can skip this part and go straight to Chapter 10 below. The story takes place in the setting of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows". It assumes canon up until the events at Grimmauld Place. Hermione discovers that Harry and she have been subjected to multiple memory charms, love potions, and compulsions. They restore the obliviated memories and realize they are in love with each other and that Dumbledore and certain members of the Order of the Phoenix have been manipulating their lives for years, making them pawns in the Headmaster's plan for Harry to sacrifice himself to destroy Voldemort…all for "the Greater Good". Particularly disturbing is their discovery that their best friend Ron has been in on it. The two lovers decide to ignore the Order and Dumbledore's plan and try to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes and get rid of Tom Riddle themselves. They stumble through, having adventures, making love, and suffering losses. They retrieve Slytherin's locket from Umbridge at the Ministry, but don't know how to destroy it. They hunt for others and decide to live as Muggles. Harry proposes and they live like honeymooners for awhile in a Muggle village inn until they say Voldemort's name. Death Eaters show up and kill many people. The couple escapes, but then Ron shows up again. He manages to kidnap Hermione. Harry chases after them and finds them at Ron's Great Aunt Muriel's house, picking up the loyalty of Kreacher and Dobby along the way. Reunited, they realize they can't do it alone and enlist the willing help of Remus Lupin and his pregnant wife Tonks. On with the story!_

_By the way: All those pesky disclaimers still apply._

Chapter 10

"Best…birth…day…ever," gasped Hermione. With her eyes rolling back in her head, the young woman buried her face in a pillow, biting it to muffle the loud moans involuntarily escaping from her every few seconds. Harry was giving her the most amazing backrub on their bed at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Somehow he knew exactly where each knot and kink was and his hands were working magic easing them. It was non-magical magic, of course, but somehow that made it fell even more magical to her. She wondered idly why, in any of her memories, obliviated or not, Harry had never given her a massage before. Foreplay, afterplay, any time of day, a backrub by Harry was definitely going to be a regular part of her life from now on, if she had any say about it.

Hermione had awakened hours earlier, just as the first pink rays of dawn were peaking through the tall window and streaming across the bedroom. She opened her eyes and realized that it was the first time in nearly a week that she'd slept through the night without waking in terror over nightmares from the attack at the inn, or from any of the other horrors they'd experienced in the recent or distant past. Her life as a witch had not turned out to be like anything she imagined it would be when she first got her letter from Hogwarts. She turned her head and looked at the person still sleeping beside her, thinking that he was the least expected, but best part of that life.

Harry had a look of peace on his face, so different from the dark shadows and creases of worry and fear that haunted him every waking moment. Sighing softly, Hermione wished that she could erase the trials of his past, change the unfair realities of his present, and rewrite the uncertainties of his future. But she knew all she could do was love him, protect him, work side-by-side with him, and help keep him from being overwhelmed by it all. Looking at him, she absorbed every detail of his face, a face she knew so well and had watched change from the wide-eyed child on the Hogwart's Express six years ago, to the determined young man of today. She was astounded by just how much she loved him. As a girl, she dreamed of being in love, but she never imagined that she would love someone as much as she loved him. She never even guessed that she could be capable of emotions as strong as those she felt for Harry Potter.

After several minutes of staring at Harry, lost in her thoughts, Hermione gently rolled on top of him. He woke and smiled, his green eyes twinkling in the morning light. "Happy birthday, love," he said. She put her finger on his lips and shushed him quietly, then leaned down to kiss him. For the first time since the disaster at the inn, they made love, slowly and tenderly. Time seemed suspended, their bodies and minds becoming one, culminating not in an earth-shattering climax, but rather in a merging of souls, bringing pure rapture to them both. It was such a beautiful experience that they both had tears streaming down their cheeks as they settled into each other's arms to enjoy the afterglow of their union.

The young couple cuddled for nearly two hours afterwards, softly exchanging words of love and shared moments. Harry joked about how they had never really celebrated her birthday before, an oversight he vowed to never let happen again, even if he had to force the Ministry into passing a law declaring September 19th a wizarding holiday. Hermione laughed and slapped him playfully. Eventually, as they continued to cuddle, their bodies began to respond to each other once more. As spiritual and ethereal as their first round of lovemaking that morning had been, the second round was purely carnal. They released their passions with uninhibited enthusiasm. Again it felt as if they were one, but now it was on a baser, more animalistic level. What seemed like an eternity later, they collapsed, sweaty, exhausted, and sated…at least temporarily.

After catching his breath, Harry rose to his knees and began rubbing Hermione's bare back. She protested at first, saying he should relax, too, but once he demonstrated his skill she stopped complaining and allowed herself to dissolve under the pleasure of his hands. Eventually Hermione noticed evidence that massaging her was having a rather restorative effect on Harry. She wondered how round three was going to play out compared to the previous two. She didn't care. She knew it would be wonderful. She had already made her breathless proclamation about it being the best birthday of her life.

Vaguely, in the barely conscious part of her rational mind, the newly eighteen year old heard a sharp cracking sound. This was followed a moment later by another crack and some poorly hushed whispering. Reluctantly lifting her head from the pillow, Hermione gasped at the sight right in front of her at the foot of the large bed. "Harry!" she called urgently, reaching behind herself to tap him in an attempt to draw his attention away from what he was doing. "Harry!" she repeated more shrilly, her body tensing.

The young man in question noticed the change in his lover's voice, from the throaty moaning of his name to the urgent call he associated with danger. Opening his eyes, he squinted bleary-eyed at the end of the bed. "Bloody hell!" he shouted when he realized what he was looking at. He grabbed the rumpled quilt next to him and threw it over their bodies. Looking around, he realized with frustration that his wand and his glasses were at the other end of the huge bed, on the nightstand. Squinting harder, he looked back at the foot of the bed and said angrily, "Dobby! Kreacher! What the f…" Hermione gave him a reproving look over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued, "What's the matter? Why are you in our bedroom?"

"Master! Mistress!" wheezed Kreacher, who was pulling on Dobby's arm with one wizened hand and trying to cover the younger elf's bulging eyes with the other. "Kreacher is so sorry. Kreacher is telling Dobby now is not being a good time for disturbing the Master and Mistress's…uh…sleep."

"Dobby?" asked Hermione, gently. She was embarrassed by the position she and Harry were caught in , but she was also afraid to move, as that would most likely expose the details of said position even more. "Why are you here?"

"Dobby is sorry!" wailed the elf in distress. "Dobby is not understanding that Harry Potter and his Hermione is making babies! Dobby is punishing himself!" With that he turned and began banging his head against the wall, with the approving Kreacher looking on. The older elf looked like he wanted to help.

"No!" squawked Hermione in shock.

"Dobby!" Harry said loudly, though he had a hard time keeping the laughter out of his voice. "Stop punishing yourself!" He took advantage of the distraction to sit back, smirking even more when the movement caused Hermione to emit a somewhat disappointed whimper. He made sure the covers were still in position and reached to retrieve his glasses. "Now," he said as sternly as possible while suppressing his laughter, "what is going on? Explain yourselves."

"Go on," croaked Kreacher, prodding the other elf in the back with a long, bony finger. "Dobby must be explaining hisself now!" Harry could have sworn he saw the ancient elf's mouth quiver with a quickly hidden smile of amusement.

"Dobby is being so sorry!" the other wailed, preparing to bang his head on the wall again.

"Dobby!" called Hermione urgently, also struggling to suppress a giggle. "We know you're sorry. Just tell us why you ….um…interrupted us."

"Harry Potter's Hermione is commanding Dobby to inform her when Mister and Misses Lupin is arriving. Harry Potter's Hermione is saying to tell her the moment they enter the house. Dobby is trying to be a good elf and is obeying orders. In spite of Kreacher being trying to be stopping Dobby," he added the last part with a dark look at the Black family house elf.

"Oh God," moaned Hermione, dropping her face into the pillow again. "I did word it that way, didn't I?"

No longer able to contain himself anymore, Harry began laughing heartily. He had prior experience with Dobby's literal interpretations of requests. Soon he was joined by Hermione's musical laughter. Wonder of wonders, even Kreacher hid a giggle behind his hand, leaving Dobby to look back and forth between his employers and their bonded house elf in confusion.

"Kreacher is to be teaching young Dobby the …uh…more subtle nature of wizard orders," the older elf volunteered, looking at the other elf with a modicum of fatherly fondness.

"Very good, Kreacher," said Harry with no small amount of surprise. "Now, Dobby," he continued, and the hired free elf bobbed up and down in eager anticipation, "am I to understand that Remus and Tonks are here for Hermione's birthday brunch?" Both Dobby and Kreacher nodded.

"What!" shrieked Hermione sitting up suddenly and pulling the quilt around herself, exposing Harry completely. "What time is it?"

Harry quickly grabbed a pillow to cover himself and laughed, "Almost eleven." Then, turning to the elves he said, "Tell our guests that we'll be down in five minutes. You may serve them tea and biscuits if they wish, while they wait."

"Make that fifteen minutes!" called Hermione, already dashing out of the room toward the bath, the quilt billowing behind her.

"Sorry," said Harry to Lupin and Tonks eleven minutes later as he and Hermione stepped into the parlor, fully dressed and holding hands.

"We kind of lost track of time," added Hermione sitting with Harry on the sofa across from the couple. "Harry was giving me my birthday present," she said. Harry gaped at his fiancée, unable to believe she was able to say that with a straight face.

"I'll bet," smirked Tonks glancing between the both of them, her hair turning from lemon yellow to hot pink.

"So what did you give her, Harry?" asked Remus, clueless. "What?" he winced, when his young wife elbowed him in the ribs and gave him that _I can't believe I married someone so thick_ look. He was getting used to that look from her.

"The same thing I got you for your birthday this year, remember?" she hissed.

"New socks?" he asked, still clueless. Tonks gave him another look and he suddenly turned red and choked on his tea, "Oh! Um, yes…um…right!" After a few moments of embarrassed silence, with Harry and Hermione blushing fiercely, the two couples were rescued by Kreacher, who came to announce that the brunch was ready.

"By the way," Tonks said to Hermione as the four walked down the hall to the dining room, "I keep forgetting to mention it, but I really like your hair short like that. It shows off your graceful neck." As she said this, her own hair became short and curly like Hermione's, though it stayed pink.

"Thanks!" said Hermione, blushing at the compliment. "You should have seen it a few weeks ago. I turned it black. And we gave Harry a blonde faux-hawk!" They were soon all nearly in tears from laughing as she described their "Muggle" disguises.

Remus and Tonks were surprised when, after serving up the delicious brunch, the two house elves sat down at the table to join them in eating it. Remus looked questioningly at Harry, who only smiled and said, "We're all family here. And families eat together." Dobby nodded vigorously and Kreacher managed a slight lessening of his usual scowl. Hermione looked at Harry with pride and squeezed his knee appreciatively under the table. The rest of the meal was spent in pleasant small talk about lighthearted topics, culminating in an outrageously off-key rendition of the birthday song as Hermione laughingly blew out the eighteen candles on her cake.

Harry and Remus insisted on cleaning up, despite the objections of the elves, who kept getting underfoot, making the task nearly impossible. Finally giving it up as a lost cause, the humans all retired to the sunny parlor for coffee. The Lupins gave Hermione her birthday presents, apologizing for their quality. "Shopping opportunities have been a little scarce," joked Remus, as Hermione unwrapped a rare book on transfiguration he selected from his own prized collection. She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and a tear in her eye. She knew how precious his books were to him and how poor he was. Tonks' gift was more practical, consisting of several containers of potions and potion-making ingredients. Hermione hugged the young Auror, whose hair turned from the festive red and purple it had been during brunch to a shiny brown, matching Hermione's color perfectly. Tonks had overheard the young witch grousing the other day that her supplies were getting depleted and her worry about how to replenish them. Especially concerning to her were her lack of polyjuice potion, which took months to brew, and veritaserum, which they had used in great quantities while interrogating their captives, who were now residing in locked and warded rooms in the basement of Grimmauld Place.

After awhile the conversation turned to the topics that were always on their minds. In the days since the events at Prewett Manor, the four had shared everything they knew and now remembered, both about the Order of the Phoenix and about Tom Riddle and the Death Eaters. Remus, especially, was horrified at the news about Riddle's horcruxes. Hermione showed him and Tonks the description of how they were created in the copy of _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ book that she had "liberated" from Dumbledore's office. The fact that Riddle made six such terrifying pieces of dark magic made them all shiver. Remus agreed with them that he would have chosen important artifacts from Hogwarts for some of the horcruxes, given his ties to the school, but none of them could guess what the additional objects would be beyond the known locket and cup.

After finishing their coffee, the group moved upstairs to the Black library. One entire wall was now taken up with Harry and Hermione's "Wall of Mysteries". Hermione hadn't said anything the other day at the complete devastation inside the tent when they went into it to retrieve their collection of notes and diagrams on their quest. Instead she gave Harry a reassuring hug when he shamefacedly admitted to "losing it a bit" when Ron had taken her. After the intervening days of questioning their captive Order members, the section of the "Wall" on Dumbledore's machinations was now much larger and detailed.

Several days earlier, right after leaving Prewett Manor, they had gone straight to Grimmauld Place. Remus re-did the Fidelius Charm and Dobby nearly died in tearful shock when Harry asked that the eager elf be made their secret keeper. Tonks and the elves set up additional powerful wards on the house, with Hermione watching and learning attentively. They then transferred their still petrified prisoners from Great Aunt Muriel's library to secure rooms that Kreacher prepared in the basement of Grimmauld Place. Tonks' training as an Auror was invaluable during the subsequent interrogations that took place over the next few days.

The interview with Molly Weasley had proven the most difficult for Harry. Questioning with veritaserum revealed that the woman he once thought of as a surrogate mother was totally and utterly committed to Dumbledore and his ideas for achieving the "Greater Good", regardless of the costs for Harry and Hermione, or anyone else for that matter. Under the influence of the truth potion, Mrs. Weasley stated simply that she would continue to try to use whatever means necessary to enact Dumbledore's plan for Harry to the letter. Not knowing whether he wanted to yell at her, to try to convince her the error of her ways, or to just plain kill her, Harry ran from the interrogation room. At the reassuring nods of Tonks and Remus, Hermione soon followed after him. He wasn't hard to find, given the volume of his cursing and the accompanying explosions as he directed his emotions at the furniture in one of the bedrooms that hadn't yet been renovated by Kreacher.

"Harry?" Hermione asked softly from the doorway after he paused blasting holes in the mattress. He turned to her and she gasped at the tortured look on his face.

"Why can't they just leave us alone?" he asked, his voice constricted with both anger and tears. "Why Hermione? Why?" She ran to him immediately, throwing her arms around him. They stood, holding each other for several minutes before Hermione lead him to their own bedroom. Harry shut down completely, falling asleep in her arms. Meanwhile, Hermione's brain churned down countless avenues of plans of her own, many involving revenge on all those who had wronged her man, from Voldemort to Dumbledore, from the Dursleys to the Weasleys.

She was still plotting over an hour later when Harry woke up and softly kissed her cheek. "Sorry," he said simply. "I kind of lost it again, didn't I?" Hermione nodded, pursing her lips. "I just feel so many things all at once," Harry continued. "Anger, sadness, frustration, fear. Sometimes I think I'm simply going to explode." He paused then smiled, "I guess I've got Ron beat in the emotional range department."

Hermione's lip twitched, then she nodded. "Way more than a teaspoon, Harry. That's what I've always loved about you. Though you used to keep it bottled up too long. Sometimes it is good to vent," she added with a restrained voice, "to let it all out."

"That's what you've been doing while I slept," he said suddenly grinning at her. "You've been venting, but in that special Hermione way."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her curiosity overcoming her desire to hold on to her own anger and frustration.

"You've been devising plans to take over the world, haven't you? And get back at our enemies? A Dark Queen enacting vengeance on all who dare oppose her!"

"You know me too well, Harry Potter," she said, blushing.

"Tell me, did you come up with an anagram for this Avenging Angel you are to become, like Tom Riddle did? Wait, don't tell me," he said holding up a hand, then tapping on his temple. "Let's see Hermione Granger….hmmm….I know! 'Enraging Her More!' What do you think? Or…or…'Mean Herring Ogre!'"

In spite of herself, Hermione started to smirk, holding back a laugh. "Actually," she admitted, blushing even more, I was using Hermione Potter, but could only come up with 'Heroine Temptor'. Pretty lame, huh?"

"Hermione Potter, huh? I like the sound of that." He said with a warm smile, squeezing her in a hug. "Let's see….How about 'More Ripe Hot Teen'?"

She broke into a laugh and slapped his chest. "I don't think that quite works. Too many e's!" They spent the next few minutes coming up with more insane anagrams for both Hermione Granger and Hermione Potter. Their laughter grew louder as the titles got more bawdy, culminating in 'Green Harem Groin' from Harry and 'Re-enter it, oomph!' from a seriously blushing Hermione. During a pause in their hilarity, they heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in!" called Hermione, still laughing.

"Everyone decent in here?" said Tonks, pushing the door open just a crack.

"'Theorem Pointer' and I are anything but decent," said Harry with a smile.

"What 'Thy Pert Roar' here is trying to say," Hermione said to a perplexed Tonks as she stepped into the room, "is that he's doing much better."

"Good one, love!" exclaimed Harry, after working out the anagram of his own name. "What's up, Tonks?"

The ex-Auror looked at the two teens for a moment, her hair shifting between several colors rapidly, expressing her confusion. Shaking her head and settling on her favorite pink shade, she said, "Remus and I have finished the interrogations, if you want to come to the library we can go over our notes."

"We'll be right there," Hermione said, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. "Right, 'Try Hero Prat'?"

"I give up," Harry laughed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Your amazing brain is just to fast for me….'Morning Rage Here'!" Hermione laughed. She had more anagrams of his name in mind, but kept silent, letting him have the last word…this time. She was just glad he had his emotions under control again.

The next day, after some followup questions that Hermione suggested for some of the prisoners, they sat down together again and summarized what they had decided about the captive Order members with new notes on the Wall of Mysteries: _Molly Weasley – do not trust, totally committed to D. and his plan – keep imprisoned and isolated. Arthur Weasley – can trust, but heartbroken over actions of his family and D., admits more loyal to M. than his own conscience – keep imprisoned, but comfortable, work on. Kingsley Shacklebolt – unknown level of trust, could be powerful ally, but has always been D.'s man, though seems torn now – keep imprisoned, but comfortable, try to convert. Muriel Prewett (and elf) – unknown level of trust, has no love for D., but loyal to family over all – keep imprisoned, but comfortable. Ron Weasley – do not trust, does care about H. and H., but too weak to stand up to M. and D. – keep imprisoned __**and as slug**__._ Hermione added the last bit with a growl of anger. She would never forgive their former friend.

Of the rest of the Order, they determined that Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, and Severus Snape were the only others left from Dumbledore's inner circle. The rest were as oblivious to the Headmaster's machinations as Remus and Tonks were. Hermione suggested that Remus try to contact the others, discretely, testing them for memory charms and compulsions and restoring obliviated memories when necessary. They decided not to let any of them know about Harry and Hermione's whereabouts until their loyalties could be ascertained.

As the Sun set on Hermione's birthday, the two couples were still talking and making plans in the Black library. Suddenly Harry gasped. Pushing Hermione's legs off his lap, he slid to his knees on the floor, clutching his forehead and groaning in pain. He woke, curled in a fetal position several minutes later, his lightning bolt scar throbbing. Hermione had his head in her lap and was bent over him, gently caressing his hair. Remus and Tonks were behind her, looking concerned. Tonks' hair was as grey as her husband's. Dobby and Kreacher were nearby, wringing their long hands with worry. Harry sat up and gratefully took the cup of tea offered by Dobby.

"What did you see?" Hermione asked softly, knowing what caused these fits. "What is Riddle up to?"

Taking a sip of tea with slowly steadying hands, Harry looked around at all of them and said, "He's angry, of course. I only seem to connect with him when he's really upset. He's in eastern Europe…Albania, I think. He's still hunting down the trail of that boy who stole whatever it is he wanted from Gregorovitch. He's getting frustrated because he can't find him or it. I watched him torture an old woman's family in front of her, trying to get information from her. He ended up killing them all when she didn't know anything useful." Hermione hugged him while Tonks and Remus looked on with serious faces.

Harry sat back and held his fiancée by the shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "Hermione," he said, "I think we need to go to Godric's Hollow now."

She bit her lower lip and shook her head. "Harry, we've talked about this. It's too dangerous. He'll be expecting you to go there. He's probably got Death Eaters or worse waiting for us there."

"Maybe, but we know that he won't be there right now. He's distracted with this Gregorovitch thing. His focus is completely on that. There's never going to be a better time."

"Why do you want to go to Godric's Hollow?" Tonks asked.

"It's where Harry's parents lived," said Remus softly, his face showing inner pain and sorrow, "and died."

"It's also where Dumbledore grew up," Harry added. "And Bathilda Bagshot still lives there."

"The magical historian?" asked Tonks.

"We think she may know some useful information, maybe clues about the horcruxes, or have a message from Dumbledore," Hermione said, not taking her eyes away from Harry's face. "Or she may even have the Sword of Gryffindor that Dumbledore left to Harry in his will. Harry thinks that Dumbledore knew something about the sword that would be important in getting rid of the horcruxes."

"Please, Hermione," Harry pleaded, holding her hands and looking beseechingly into her eyes.

"I'm not your mother, Harry!" she snapped, jumping up angrily. "You don't need my permission to do what you want!" She huffed and stormed, red-faced toward the door.

"No," Harry called after her, his brain working faster than his passion for once. "You're not my mother. You're my partner…the love of my life…the brightest witch of any age. I won't go if you don't think it's a good idea. How many times have I had to learn that lesson? Me not listening to you about going to the Ministry in fifth year cost Sirius his life and nearly got you killed." Hermione stopped in the doorway but kept her back to the room. Harry took a breath and said calmly, " I can't believe I'm saying this to you, of all people, but I want you to think about this rationally. Just tell me the real reason why you don't want us to go to Godric's Hollow, Hermione."

The young woman bowed her head. She turned around slowly and they all saw the tears running down her blotchy face. "I'm scared, Harry," she croaked. "Plain and simple, I'm terrified that you're going to die. I just got you back. We're closer than ever. We're engaged, for goodness sake, and we've been living like…like a happily married couple. I don't think I could handle it if I lose you. I don't want to live without you."

Ignoring the others in the room who were watching with rapt attention the intimate moment between the two young lovers, Harry walked over to Hermione and engulfed her in a hug. She sobbed into his chest. He'd never seen her more frail and vulnerable. She was his rock. She was always the one to calm him down, to make the right choices, to plan what needed to be done. It shook him to the core to see her like this.

"I don't want to live without you, either," he said softly into her hair. "But the sooner we get this stupid horcrux thing done and finish off Tom Riddle for good, the sooner we can get down to being just us, two people madly in love." Hermione lifted her head from his chest and swallowed her tears, nodding at him. "I can't do it without you. I don't want to do it without you." She nodded again and wiped her face with her sleeve.

Stepping out from the circle of his arms and putting on a determined face, she turned to the others and said confidently, "Right then, I guess we need to start planning for Harry's and my visit to Godric's Hollow." To the astonishment of everyone except Harry, she walked over to the desk and grabbed a piece of blank parchment and a quill. Harry smiled at her, knowing he had his rock back.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: It's hard to believe it's been eight months since I last updated this story! I won't apologize, because many factors have contributed to my delinquency, none of which have anything to do with my desire to continue a story that is fully developed in my head and in my outlines. All I'll say is that sometimes real life just gets in the way of fantasy. Since it has been so long, I suggest you go back and read the synopsis I wrote at the beginning of Chapter 10, and maybe re-read that chapter also, if not the entire story from Chapter 1. If you are like me, you follow many stories and I know that I frequently need to go back and remind myself what they are all about when a new update arrives._

**Chapter 11**

As in many other quaint, rural villages in the West Country, Saturday was market day in Godric's Hollow. On that particular, unusually warm, late September morning, the small square in the center of the town was lined with booths and awning-covered tables. Cheerful vendors hawked everything from the season's last harvest of vegetables and fruits to jewelry, books, and even shoes. Down a side street, invisible to the town's many Muggle residents, who somehow never even noticed the street or their neighbors who disappeared down it, stood even more tables, these laden with potion ingredients, floo powder, enchanted cookware, owl treats, and other sundry necessities for the wizarding household.

The mood in the magical portion of the market was significantly more somber than that out in the main Muggle square. The robed vendors didn't call out or even smile to their equally subdued customers. Business was transacted with as few words as possible. Many furtive glances were given to the two imposing figures of Magical Purity Enforcers, as Aurors were now known in the New Ministry order. These scowling officials stood at either end of the street. Occasionally one or the other stepped out to harass a frightened villager, demanding to inspect the quivering witch or wizard's wand, gruffly questioning identities and blood status.

A young couple stood at the last Muggle booth before the entrance to the magical market street. Pretending to inspect a large green squash, the slightly plump, bearded man mumbled under his breath to his tall companion. "I told you we should have come last night. "It's too crowded today…"

"Nonsense," she hissed back, pushing a lock of long blonde hair behind her ear and picking up a turnip. "Act like you don't see anything magical. They can't tell us from the Muggles. Besides, we blend in better when there are a lot of people about." She smiled at the woman behind the table and, in a louder voice, proceeded to haggle over the price of the vegetables in their hands.

Minutes later the two walked across the square, away from the magical street, laden with a selection of fresh produce. As they passed the war memorial that adorned the center of the square the young man suddenly stumbled, staring at the stone obelisk. The woman grabbed his arm and dragged him along, pointing at a booth across the way and expressing poorly feigned interest in the display of hand-knit jumpers there.

"Hermione!" he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "Did you see….?"

"Yes, _Jimmy,_" she said emphasizing the pseudonym they agreed on to go with their polyjuiced disguises for the day. "It's a very nice memorial to the town's fallen soldiers. I see they've included those from the Persian Gulf and Falkland Islands Wars," she added, continuing to pull him along. Still feeling him resist, she stopped, gripped his shoulders, and turned him to face her and not the memorial. She looked him deeply in the eyes for a moment, then pulled him closer for a kiss and a hug. With her head on his shoulder she whispered softly into his ear, "I know, Harry. It's your parents and you, isn't it?"

As they had approached it, the war memorial transformed before their magical eyes from a name-covered stone obelisk into a bronze statue of a young couple holding a baby. "Even the Wizarding World honors its war heroes," she whispered sadly, fighting back the tears that always seemed to come when she contemplated Harry's tragic childhood. He stayed stiff in her embrace, his face showing no emotion at all. "Come on," she said taking his hand. "Let's go look at those delightful jumpers," she exclaimed loud enough for passersby to hear. "I bet you'd look fabulous in that green one!" She drew him into another hug. "Remus said that Professor Bagshot lives down the street behind that booth," she mumbled softly, gently reminding him of why they were in Godric's Hollow in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, he took one last glance back at the statue, then nodded and forced a smile as he walked with her to look at the ugly, misshapen article of clothing. She held it up to his chest, looking critically at it. "It'll be perfect for winter, and it looks like one Aunt M. would have made." she exclaimed. Harry rolled his eyes, inwardly agreeing with her assessment of both the jumper and Molly Weasley's alleged knitting skills. The elderly woman behind the table, mistaking their sarcasm for the enthusiasm preceding a possible sale, began extolling the virtue of the sheep that gave the wool, the supposed hours of work put into the special "draft resistant weave" of the yarn, and the natural vegetable dyes she used to achieve the astounding chartreuse color.

Several minutes later, the couple left the booth with the gaudy green jumper stuffed into their sack on top of the vegetables. "I'll shrink it and give it to Dobby," Hermione said softly, so only Harry could hear. "He'll love it!" Harry smiled looking at her fondly. He remembered his fiancée's early attempts at freeing the Hogwarts house elves by making them hats and socks, her passion for social justice blinding her to her own lack of skill. He would never admit to her that her knitting was even more atrocious than Mrs. Weasley's. Never.

As they walked down the lane, Hermione suddenly squeezed his hand tightly. Harry looked at her questioningly, glancing up and down the street, looking out for Death Eaters or Ministry Enforcers. "Don't be obvious about it," she commanded in a strained whisper, "but as we pass by, look between the green cottage and the brick house on the right." They continued, though at a slower pace. Harry bit his lip, looking out of the sides of his eyes as they passed the place she indicated.

Between the two houses a third appeared, once again only visible to wizarding eyes. The hidden structure wasn't as well kept as its neighbors. Instead, in an overgrown garden stood the remains of a small cottage. Half of it had been blown away, as if by an explosion from within, and much of the remaining wood was scorched black. This was where it happened, almost sixteen years earlier. This was where Lily and James Potter gave up their lives protecting their young son from the wrath of a dark wizard intent on eliminating the enemy told of in a half overheard prophecy. This was where Harry's normal, happy childhood ended in violence and the nightmare of the rest of his life began.

Hermione squeezed her lover's unfamiliarly pudgy hand in sympathy. He squeezed back and looked at her with blue eyes that were not his own. She wished, not for the first time that day, that she could look into the green eyes that everyone said looked so like those of the mother he could barely remember. She wanted to hold him and cry with him as he mourned, properly, in their own bodies, not in the forms of the strangers from the London street from whom they had secretly stolen hairs earlier that morning. Setting the round, whiskered jaw that wasn't his, he said calmly, "Come on, I think her house is just in the next block." She nodded, folding her arm around his, as they picked up the pace, not looking back at the ruin of Harry's past.

Bathilda Bagshot's house was small, but well tended. Before entering the garden gate, the couple each took a sip from the phials in their pockets, grimacing as they swallowed the foul tasting polyjuice potion. They would be good for another hour before needing a booster sip. Nodding to each other's unfamiliar face, they approached the house and knocked. After a few minutes the door opened and an ancient, wrinkled face peered up at them with cloudy eyes. "Yes?" the old woman asked in a gravelly voice, hoarse from lack of use. "May I help you?"

"Um…" Hermione began, launching into the cover story they rehearsed last night. "Professor Bagshot? My name is Jeanie, and this…um…is my…um…this is Jimmy. We're graduate students at Emrys College in Oxford, studying history. I wonder if we could take a moment of your time to ask a few questions?" The old woman's face brightened when she heard the name of the magical college where she had taken her own history doctorate nearly a century and a half earlier.

"Come in! Come in!" she croaked turning around and shuffling into the house. She lead them down a cramped hall into a stuffy parlor full of faded Victorian era furniture covered in lace doilies and afghans. "Tea?" she asked gesturing at a divan while plopping down on a worn armchair, her joints creaking. On their tentative nods, she pulled out a wand and waved it toward the doorway. A few moments after they sat, a tray with tea and biscuits floated into the room and settled on the low table between them. Harry began serving the tea, letting Hermione take the lead with the talking.

"So, um…Professor Bagshot…" she began.

"Call me Bathilda, dearie," the old woman's laugh was like a rusty hinge. "I haven't been a teacher since well before the two of you were born."

"OK, um…Bathilda…," Hermione continued. "I'm working on my dissertation about the origins of the house elf ensla….um…the house elf bond. The standard references are quite vague on the history."

"Let me guess," the old witch croaked, "You came out of Hogwarts, correct?" Cackling and coughing at their nods, she continued, "I suppose Binns' ghost is still doing Magical History then? You know, I tried to get Albus to replace him, but he decided letting a ghost teach the course was better for the school's budget. Budget! What about the students? Or the subject? They say that Cuthbert Binns was a lackluster instructor when he was alive in the seventeenth century, droning on and on about dates and names without any regard to the real lessons behind the history. He's become even more boring since he died. It's a wonder anyone who's been through Hogwarts has survived with any interest in magical history at all. My commendation to you for sticking with it into your higher education. I've never understood Albus' staffing choices." Her voice was getting stronger with more use, her passion for the topic winning out over her age. "So, what did you want to know about house elves?"

"Well," Hermione said, leaning forward and setting her teacup down, "I don't understand how they became ensl...um how they came to be servants to wizards."

"You can say it, girl," Bathilda chuckled. "They are our slaves, pure and simple. Euphemisms just hide the brutal truth, like a coat of paint on a rotting bridge. It'll still collapse when you step on it, no matter how nice and new it looks."

"But how did it happen?" Hermione asked, her brow creased in thought. "You mention in _A History of Magic_ that the elves also fought against wizards in the first Goblin War, but that's all you say. The other texts don't even divulge that much."

"Oh, I wrote a lot more," the historian said angrily, putting her tea cup down with a clatter, "only those idiots at the Ministry cut the whole chapter out! Said my words were too inflammatory, that it wouldn't do to emphasize events that might put wizards in a bad light. Inflammatory!" she spat vehemently, spraying biscuit crumbs towards them to land in their laps. "I wanted to send a few flames up their stodgy old arses, I tell you!" Hermione sat back, her eyes wide with astonishment. Harry just shook his head with a knowing smile and brushed the crumbs off his jeans. He had first hand experience with Ministry censorship and the wizarding propensity for hiding uncomfortable truths.

"So...," Hermione continued when she regained her composure somewhat, "how did it happen then? If the elves fought against wizards, how did they become slaves?"

"Isn't it obvious? They lost." Hermione turned her head in surprise to look at Harry, who had spoken the words with a level voice. His unfamiliarly round face was grim as he looked back at her with steady blue eyes.

"Your boyfriend is right," cackled Bathilda, sitting back happily and actually clapping. "Elf magic is strong. Stronger even than goblin or wizard magic in many ways."

"Then how...how did they lose?" Hermione asked, finding her voice again.

"They didn't have the heart for it," the old lady replied, as if that explained everything. She took a sip from her tea and reached for another biscuit with an unsteady hand. Silence filled the stuffy sitting room as Harry and Hermione contemplated Bathilda's assessment. Harry nodded, but Hermione chewed her lower lip, deep in thought. It was odd for Harry to see that quaintly Hermione mannerism on the face of a stranger.

"I don't see how...," she began, breaking the silence finally.

"I know you're not that naïve, girl," the historian snapped, causing Hermione to flinch back in surprise at the vehemence of the retort. "Anyone can fight to defend themselves if they have to, but to win a war you have to be in touch with the capability for darkness within yourself, to be willing to do things against your so-called morals for the preservation of the greater good." Harry gritted his teeth. There was that phrase again, the one that wizards seemed to use with impunity, justifying their actions, no matter how loathsome. "The elves just didn't have it in them to do what it takes to win a war against wizards. Hence they lost. The enslavement bond was created in case they should ever figure out that they could actually win against wizards," the old woman concluded with what seemed like approval.

Silence hung over the stuffy parlor as Hermione looked at the old woman with sudden repulsion. Harry looked around the room, expressionless. All this was interesting, but not really getting them to the point of their visit. Professor Bagshot took another sip from her tea, almost casually, as if nothing untoward had been said. Glancing at Hermione, Harry could see that she was working up a steam and was about to start in on the ancient witch. He wasn't sure how right or wrong the historian's attitudes were, but he knew that antagonizing her with a passionately opposing viewpoint, as he knew Hermione was about to do, was probably not in their best interests right now. His mind scrambled to find something to head her righteous outburst off.

Before Harry could even think of anything to say, Bathilda spoke. "Now Miss Granger, I know you didn't come here just to chat about ancient history," she said with a sly smirk that looked out of place on her wizened face. "What did you and Mr. Potter really want from me?"

In a split second Harry jumped up to stand in front of Hermione, shielding her, his wand pointed at the smiling old woman. Hermione gaped for a second, then leapt up drawing her own wand and muttering, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She turned her back to Harry to watch the door and windows for a surprise attack from behind, trusting Harry to deal with anything the old lady might throw at them.

"Calm down, you two," Bathilda said mildly, setting her tea down and holding her gnarled hands up. "As you can see, I'm unarmed," she nodded, indicating her wand, which still sat on the table next to the plate of biscuits. Harry promptly snatched the wand up, without taking his eyes off the old woman. "Excellent reactions, I must say, Mr. Potter," Bathilda said, sitting back in her chair. "And Miss Granger, while slow on the draw, your teamwork is surprisingly instinctive. You may both relax, however. I'm unarmed, I'm worthless at wandless magic, and no one else is here or on their way, as far as I know. You're as safe here as anywhere, I suppose, being the fugitives you are."

"How?" Hermione asked, not taking her eyes or wand off the windows and door.

"How did I know you're not who you appear to be?" the professor said with a chuckle. "I'm nearly blind. Using polyjuice to change your appearance doesn't matter to me since I'm not using my eyesight, but other abilities to sense you."

"Legilimency?" Harry growled angrily.

"Just a touch," she replied, closing her cloudy eyes. "Might I say you could both benefit from some Occlumency training," she added, causing Harry to growl again, remembering his failed lessons in the subject the prior year with Snape. "But I've never been a very skilled Legilimens," she continued. "No, my initial skepticism about you came from this," she said tapping her rather large, bulbous nose. "I can smell the polyjuice potion on your breaths. On many more than one occasion over my long life as an historian I've found it very useful to appear as someone else, in particular when trying to get at other's family secrets. As such, I have become very familiar with the preparation, use, and aroma of the potion. I suggest mouthwash the next time you use polyjuice, though in my heyday I tended to prefer a firewhisky chaser."

"So you knew all along that we weren't Jeanie and Jimmy," Hermione spat out, irritated that her detailed plan was failing so completely.

"Well," she replied, "I knew you were hiding your identities. I didn't know who you were until you started asking about house elves."

"How did that clue you in on who we are?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"The wizarding community in Great Britain is quite small, with the magical academic community even smaller. We may be physically isolated by choice, but we do love to gossip, and we definitely keep an eye on up and coming movers and shakers in the wizarding world. You, Mr. Potter, are a celebrity for witches and wizards of all walks of life, for obvious reasons. Miss Granger, on the other hand, is quite well known within academia, not simply for her association with you, but more for her own accomplishments thus far and her potential for greater things in the future. Her indignation over the plight of house elves is rather well known, and, not surprisingly, rather controversial in some circles."

Blushing, Hermione didn't respond to the old woman's comments. Instead she turned and began performing spells that would reveal any other occupants of the house. When no hidden watchers were uncovered, she began walking around the room, waving her wand and muttering the charms that she had previously used to protect their campsite in the Forest of Dean. She trusted Harry to keep an eye on the professor, who was now clapping and laughing with excitement upon hearing the arcane words to Hermione's spells. "Brilliant! Excellent!," cackled the old woman with delight. "Ooh, that's a good one! I've never even heard that one pronounced! Wherever did you find those charms? I recognize that one from Merlin's Journals! I didn't think anyone ever got it to work, though! Oh my dear, you are definitely a treasure!"

"Yes she is," Harry agreed with a smile, sparing a quick and loving glance at his best friend, who came back to stand next to him, her wand trained on their now giddy hostess.

"We were wondering, Professor Bagshot," started Hermione in a business-like tone, "if Professor Dumbledore gave you anything for us, a message, perhaps, or a package?"

"Albus?" she frowned, rubbing her wrinkled chin. "Why would Albus leave me anything for you two? Before his funeral I hadn't seen him in years, and at his funeral, well, I don't recall him giving me anything then either."

"We thought maybe, since Professor Dumbledore was from Godric's Hollow, and so were Harry's parents…," Hermione trailed off, trying not to let her disappointment overwhelm her. The three sat in silence. Bathilda staring with cloudy eyes in their general direction, Hermione looking sadly at Harry, while he refused to make eye contact with either of them, staring at the opposite wall.

"Professor Bagshot," he said breaking the silence loudly, suddenly jumping up and striding over to the mantle to grab a gilded framed photograph. "Who is the boy in this picture?"

"Which picture?" the woman asked, squinting toward Harry.

"Second from the left on the mantelpiece," Hermione responded, noting that the woman really must be nearly completely blind. She shot Harry an inquisitive look. He handed her the picture of a young wizard who looked rather puffed up and full of himself, not unlike Malfoy, but more handsome. _It's him_, Harry mouthed silently,_ the boy Riddle is looking for!_ Hermione's eyes widened in growing comprehension. She and Harry stared at each other for a moment.

"Well, that would be my grand nephew, Gellert," said Bathilda with a sudden smile, not noticing the silent conversation going on between her two young guests.

"Gellert…Gellert Grindelwald?" Hermione asked, turning to look at the old woman with wide eyes. "He was your grand nephew?" Harry sat on the edge of the seat next to her. She noted his hands were shaking. Setting the photo of the young Grindelwald down on the coffee table, she took his hand in hers, steadying it.

"Still is, as far as I know," the professor said, taking another sip of tea. "He's in that awful Nurmengard where Albus locked him up. So sad," she said shaking her head and frowning. "They were such nice boys, so smart, so much potential…" Her voice trailed off as she seemed to disappear into memories.

"Are…are you saying that Grindelwald and Dumbledore knew each other?" Harry asked, stuttering in his confusion. He shared a shocked look with Hermione.

"Oh, of course," the historian smiled. "They were inseparable, especially that summer Gellert came to stay with me here. Closer than best mates, really."

"Grindelwald was here? In Godric's Hollow?" Hermione gasped.

"Of course," she replied, "That is, until he and Albus and Aberforth had their falling out. Oh, poor little Ariana. Her brothers doted on her. She'd never recovered from what those Muggles did to her at such a tender age. She was so fragile, hated conflict of any sort. When the Dumbledore boys and my Gellert got into that row that one day, she got in the middle, and well, you know what happened after that. Aberforth never forgave Albus, even after he changed his stripes and started to fight against the plans that he and Gellert had worked so hard to develop. 'The Greater Good', they called it. Well, that and their quest for the Deathly Hallows."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, completely shocked to the core. They knew that Dumbledore's greatest achievement was considered to be his defeat of the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald in a one-on-one duel. Hermione knew this from her study of the history of magic, and Harry from reading the headmaster's chocolate frog card. Neither had never heard any hint that the two most powerful wizards of that age had been acquainted, let alone close friends. And what was all this about Dumbledore's brother and sister? Harry had so many questions he didn't know where to start. He hadn't been this confused since Hermione had recovered his obliviated memories. Nothing he thought he knew fit together anymore.

"What happened to the headmaster's sister? What was this 'Greater Good' plan? What lead to their falling out? Where does the headmaster's brother fit in? What are the 'Deathly Hallows'?" Hermione rapidly gave voice to the top five questions that came to her own inquisitive mind.

Mrs. Bagshot chuckled and held up her gnarled hands as if to fend off the onslaught of questions from the hyperactive young woman. "I think you'd better read that Skeeter woman's book. It's all in there, at least about the Dumbledores and my Gellert." She waved a hand to the mantle.

Harry leapt up and grabbed a book that was sitting next to the spot where the picture of Grindelwald had been. _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ by Rita Skeeter, proclaimed the title. This was the book that Ron's Great Aunt Muriel and Elphias Doge had argued about at Bill and Fleur's wedding. It had also been the topic of a series of articles in the Daily Prophet that summer. This copy of the book looked like it hadn't ever been opened. Not surprising, given Bathilda Bagshot's poor eyesight. There was a handwritten note attached to the cover. Harry handed both the book and note to Hermione and stood still while she read it out loud: "_Dear Batty, Thanks for your help. Here's a copy of the book, hope you like it. You said everything, even if you don't remember it. Rita_"

For some reason, hearing the note caused the ancient woman to break into hysterical laughter, which ended in a long coughing fit. Harry refilled the woman's teacup and handed it to her. When she recovered, she was still wheezing with laughter. "That woman!" she exclaimed, referring to Rita Skeeter. "She thought she was being so sneaky, and manipulative. Such an amateur! She only wrote what I wanted. Those obsessed with greed and fame are so easy to manipulate."

"Are you saying that you really wrote this book, Professor?" Hermione gasped.

"Of course," she smiled. "I'd never be able to print anything like that under my own name. They'd think I'd gone 'round the bend as they say. Better to let a rumour-monger like Skeeter publish it first, to get the ideas out there. Then real historians could follow up with more scholarly articles." Hermione sat back, speechless. She wasn't certain whether she was more disillusioned by the revelations about their former headmaster or by the cutthroat actions of a revered historian. They'd already developed a great mistrust of Dumbledore from his manipulations of the two of them, but Hermione hadn't thought that attitude of manipulation was so rampant throughout all of the wizarding world's elite, even in the realm of academic research.

"What are the Deathly Hallows?" Harry asked numbly, not really knowing why, other than he wasn't sure he could handle any more shocking news about his former mentor. He noted that she had indicated that topic was not covered in the book.

"The Holy Grail of the wizarding world," Bathilda said. "Tell me, have either of you heard of the _Tale of the Three Brothers_?" Both Harry and Hermione shook their heads. "I'm not surprised that you haven't, given that Miss Granger is a Muggleborn and you, Mr. Potter, were kept ignorant of your wizarding roots for so long. I suggest you find a copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._ Chapter twelve, I believe."

Harry looked at his fiancée quickly, opening his mouth to say something about the book that had been bequeathed to Hermione in Dumbledore's will. She pursed her lips and shook her head at him. That book was in the bottom of her beaded bag. They'd been too pre-occupied with everything else for her to study it. She mentally berated herself for nearly forgetting about it. "Isn't that a children's book, Professor?" she asked before Harry could say anything. "Fairy stories made up to teach moral lessons to young witches and wizards?"

"Fairy stories are much more than that, Miss Granger," said the historian falling into lecture mode. "They are an embodiment of the oral tradition, the first form of recorded history. Many of the stories are based in fact. While it's been debated how much of the story about the Deathly Hallows is true, there is no doubt that the Peverell brothers were real people. In fact, Ignotus' grave is in the cemetery by the church here in the village. That's why so many of the people obsessed with finding the Hallows start their search here. If you want to know more, I suggest you…"

They never found out what her suggestion was, for at that moment the clock on the mantle struck half past noon. "Oh dear!" Mrs. Bagshot exclaimed, "Is it that late already? You had better be going! My knitting circle comes every Saturday at one for luncheon and the week's gossip. While they'd be fascinated to meet you two, I don't think it would be in anyone's best interest to know you've been here. My friend Esther usually shows up early to help me prepare the sandwiches." She struggled to stand on creaking knees. Harry stood to help her up, while Hermione waved her wand and sent the tea set back into the kitchen. Then she began to undo the wards she'd set around the house.

"It's been such a pleasure meeting you two young people. If any of us survive this latest darkness, I hope you come find me so I can hear all the details of your adventures. For history's sake that is," she said as she herded them to the front door on tottering legs. "Keep the book," she added, "and don't forget to take another dose of your polyjuice. It must be about to wear off by now. Now go. Go! And Mr. Potter, if you believe in anything, believe in this young woman. She's got a head on her shoulders."

A few minutes later found a tall, slender woman and portly, bearded young man walking arm in arm down the lane. They passed an old woman headed in the other direction carrying several parcels, guessing that it was Bathilda's friend with the makings of the knitting circle's luncheon. They walked on in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts about the things they had just heard. Hermione, for her part, was eager to get back to Grimmauld Place to read Skeeter/Bagshot's book about Dumbledore and to study the fairy stories left to her by the headmaster. There had to be a hidden message in there somewhere. Harry was struggling to understand how any of what they learned would help them find the remaining horcruxes or fight against Riddle.

"Hermione," Harry said, suddenly breaking the silence after several minutes of aimless wandering through the town. "Do you think this is the cemetery the old woman was talking about?" She and Harry found themselves standing at the kissing gate to a small cemetery by an aged stone church.

"It must be," she said, coming out of her distant thoughts.

With mutual, but unspoken agreement, the couple passed through the gate and began wandering up and down the rows of tombstones and crypts. "Harry!" Hermione gasped, dropping to her knees in front of a small headstone. She brushed aside the gathering of dried leaves and grass clippings on the marker to reveal the writing. "Ignotus Peverell," she read. At least part of Bathilda's story was holding true. "Harry, what do you think she meant by…" she started to ask, looking up at him. Her question went unfinished when she noticed that Harry wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead he was staring past the Peverell grave to another in the next row. He started to walk towards the other grave. Hermione bit back the irritated comment on the tip of her tongue when she saw the name on the other tombstone. She rose and walked over to him, putting her arm around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Harry," she whispered sadly as he stood stone still looking at the grave of James Potter and Lily Potter née Evans. She looked at the dates, realizing that they were less than a handful of years older than she and Harry when they were killed on that fateful Halloween in 1981. She knelt, taking out her wand, and softly spoke a spell, conjuring a wreath of calla lilies which she laid on the grave. She stood and embraced Harry again. He squeezed her back, silently thanking her for the gesture.

After several minutes of silence, with tears streaking his face, Harry suddenly said softly, "Mum, Dad, I'd like you to meet Hermione. I love her and I wish you could have met her. She means everything to me."

Hermione swallowed her own tears and said, "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. You'd be so proud of your son. He's a great wizard and my best friend. I love him more than I ever thought would be possible to love anyone." Harry squeezed her again, then wiped his running nose and cheeks on his sleeve.

"Hermione," he asked, looking up at the nearby church. "Do you think they belonged to this church? That they got married here?"

"Probably," she said, wiping her own tears from her eyes. Then she smiled. "We should get married here," she said, making it sound like more of a mandate than a suggestion.

"I'd like that," he replied with his own smile. "When this is all over we can invite our friends, maybe have a party in town afterwards."

"No, Harry," Hermione said turning him to face her. "I mean we should get married here today. Right now."


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Well, I appear to be on a roll. Either that or I'm avoiding other things I should be working on. Regardless, here's the second chapter in two days! Enjoy!_

**Chapter 12**

"Hermione," Harry asked, "Are you being serious?"

"I've never been more so in my life, Harry," she said, looking at him in the eyes. "I want to marry you today."

"But," he responded, confused, "I thought you wanted to wait until after, you know, so we could have your parents there. They really should be at their only daughter's wedding."

Taking both his hands in hers, she sighed and said, "Harry, let's be honest. We both know our chances of surviving are rather slim." Seeing he was about to object, she squeezed his hands and spoke forcefully. "Just listen to me, Harry! " He frowned, but nodded, locking eyes with her. "I don't mean because of the prophesy. Such things are only as real as we make them and I have no intent on letting you make it real…and not by running away. We'll keep fighting…keep doing whatever it takes to try to stop Riddle because…well because it's the right thing to do and that's who we are and what we do. But try as we might, the odds are against us living through the conflict ahead. When I die, I want to die as your wife."

With that declaration, she grabbed his chubby, bearded face and kissed him. With their eyes closed and lips locked, they were just Harry and Hermione, not Jimmy and Jeanie or any other form that a charm or potion gave them. For just that moment there were no horcuxes, no dark wizards, no manipulative professors, no prophesies, just two young people in love. Hermione put all of her heart behind that kiss, willing, through their merged lips, for Harry to feel her boundless love, loyalty, and determination. When they finally parted, she could see tears welling in his eyes. "I love you, Hermione," he croaked hoarsely.

"I love you, too, Harry," she said with a smile. "And if, by some miracle we survive to give my parents back their memories, we'll have a second ceremony just for them. Now let's go see if we can find the vicar." Grabbing his hand, she started pulling him towards the rectory next to the church.

The vicar turned out to be a young man named Father Steve, probably fewer than ten years their senior. "So," he said with a wide smile, "you two lovebirds want to tie the knot in our church. That's wonderful! And may I offer my congratulations!"

"Thank you, Father," said the tall, slender blonde with an equally large smile, taking the chubby young man's hand. "My fiancé's ancestors were from Godric's Hollow originally and we thought it would be…um…nice to be married here."

"That's sweet. It's good to connect to our past. Tell me," he went on to ask, "have you announced your intention to marry through the traditional wedding banns?"

"We have to hire a band?" asked the young man, confused.

"Not a band, honey," said the woman stifling a chuckle and patting his knee. "'Banns'. Custom has it that a couple announce their wedding three times in an official publication, ostensibly to give members of the community a chance to object to the union."

"That's correct, miss," Father Steve said, "but it's not just a custom. While the Communion of the Church of England is in the process of modernizing the rites and practices associated with the rite of marriage, those changes are not yet in effect and the old rules are still abided by."

"Well, we haven't really had time for doing things the normal way," the young man admitted, turning to the woman for help. She thought for a moment, then launched into a long, convoluted explanation that would have had anyone's head spinning.

"Let me get this straight," the vicar said rubbing his forehead several minutes later. "You were just passing through Godric's Hollow and decided that you wanted to be married in my church." The couple nodded. "And you say you have to get married today, because you're leaving town straight away and may not be coming back through these parts again. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Father," the young woman said firmly, though in her head she was more than a little surprised and disappointed that the vicar had followed her train of thought so well.

"How long have you two known each other?"

"Six years," she said with a smile.

"And how long have you been dating?"

"At least five years," the man said this time.

"Off and on," the woman added, putting her hand on top of his again.

"And how long have you been engaged?" the priest asked, seeing the ring on the woman's finger.

"Almost three weeks," she responded, looking a little less confident.

"Are you pregnant?" Father Steve asked, closely watching their reaction to the question.

"No!" they both exclaimed at the same time.

"So what's your hurry then?"

"There are um…extenuating circumstances," the man said looking at the woman uncertainly.

"Look," the vicar said with a sigh, placing his palms on the desk between them. "While the Church guidelines are clear, I am allowed some leeway in certain special cases. But you're going to have to be honest with me. Right now I just see a young witch and wizard telling me they have to get married right away and who are hiding their true identities behind a glamour or polyjuice potion."

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed the young woman as both leapt up drawing their wands and knocking their chairs over as they backed toward the door.

"What the effing good is polyjuice, if everyone knows we're using it?" groaned the young man in exasperation.

"Calm down," the vicar laughed, not moving his hands from the desktop. "I'm not going to bust your chops or anything. Just tell me what the deal is. Are you underage? Do your parents disapprove of the match? What's the truth?"

"How did you know we're magical?" the woman asked, not taking her wand off the man.

"I'm the vicar of the only Church of England in a half wizarding half Muggle village," Father Steve said with a smirk. "One learns very quickly how to tell the difference between the two types of members of the congregation. Now, spill. Who are you really?"

The couple looked at each other for a moment, then lowered their wands after reaching some silent agreement between themselves. They picked up their chairs and sat down. The man reached out his hand to the vicar and said, "Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

"And I'm Hermio…" The vicar never heard the rest of her name as he fell backwards to the floor in a dead faint.

Ten minutes later Harry and Hermione had managed to revive the poor priest, having laid him out on the sofa in the next room. Harry chuckled as he handed the still shaking fellow a large glass of brandy from the minibar they found next to the bookcase. Father Steve drained the whole thing without wincing, then smiled crookedly at the two people bending over him. "Extenuating circumstances is quite the understatement," he said weakly. "It's a pleasure to meet the infamous Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. You two give hope to so many."

A quarter of an hour later the three were in the church proper. Harry and Hermione's polyjuice had worn off and they stood as themselves in ill-fitting clothes in front of the altar, facing Father Steve, who was putting on his priestly robes. "You'll need rings," he said. Harry held out his hand, on which rested two small twigs he had picked up from the garden on the way in. He waved his wand over them and they transfigured into two simple gold wedding bands. "OK, that will do," the vicar said with a reassuring smile. "You'll also need at least two witnesses. I can get my secretary and the groundskeeper if you wish, but it may take a bit of time to round them up as they usually don't work on Saturdays."

"That won't be necessary," Harry said, running a hand through his once again messy black hair. "Dobby! Kreacher!" With simultaneous cracks, two house elves appeared.

"Is Master Harry and Mistress Hermione needing us?" Kreacher croaked with a bow.

"Um," the vicar said, looking troubled. "As I said, I am allowed some leeway by the church, but the Ministry laws are quite firm that the witnesses be human."

"That's just not fair," muttered Harry.

Hermione smiled at her husband-to-be and turned to the elves. "Harry and I are getting married in a few minutes." The elves eyes widened and Dobby started to jump up and down, squealing with delight. Kreacher broke into a rare smile. Putting a hand on Dobby's shoulder, Hermione tried to calm him down enough to ask, "Can you bring Remus and Tonks here right away?" Dobby nodded enthusiastically and disappeared immediately.

"If Kreacher may suggest," the older, calmer elf said looking up at his two humans. "More appropriate clothing is required." He lifted his hands and began waving them at the couple, transfiguring their clothes.

A moment later a loud crack was heard and three figures appeared in the aisle of the church. Remus and Tonks immediately dropped and rolled in opposite directions from the confused Dobby, their wands out. "Everybody freeze!" screamed Tonks sticking her head up over the back of the pew she was taking cover behind. Her hair was tomato red and her wand was pointed directly at the vicar, who once again fell to the floor in a faint. Tonks scowled when she saw Harry and Hermione doubled over in laughter. Her scowl got deeper and her hair turned an even brighter red when she turned to her husband and saw him trying to hide his own laughter behind his hand.

"Harry, Hermione," said Remus stifling a chuckle. "When Dobby said you needed us right away, we feared the worst."

"Oh my God!" screeched Tonks, suddenly noticing the dress robes and wedding gown that Kreacher had conjured up for Harry and Hermione and the fact that Dobby had brought them to a church. She leapt up and immediately ran to hug the young bride. "You're getting married!"

Still chuckling, Remus joined Harry in trying to revive the priest. "'Everybody freeze'?" asked Harry under his breath.

"What can I say?" Remus replied quietly. "She likes the detective dramas."

"I didn't even know you had a telly," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Harry?" asked Lupin tentatively, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "As a close friend to your father, I guess it falls to me to see if you know certain things about…well…things."

"Remus," Harry replied with a smirk. "Are you trying to give me 'The Talk'?"

"Well, um, yes," he coughed, blushing fiercely.

"Don't worry," Harry said putting his hand on his surrogate uncle's shoulder reassuringly. "I've already had 'The Talk'. Three times actually."

"Was it from Vernon Dursley?" Remus asked, relieved.

"Oh God, no!" exclaimed Harry, his face taking on a distinctively green tint at the thought.

"Did Sirius get to do it then?" Remus smiled when Harry nodded, happy that his old friend had gotten to perform at least one godfatherly duty during his short time with Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said, "He got to do the second one. You should have seen how nervous he was about it! And the drawings were hilarious."

"I'm curious, who gave you 'The Talk' the other two times?" Remus asked.

"Hermione," Harry said with a straight face.

The aforementioned woman looked across the church at the two men when they burst into hysterical laughter. She made eye contact with her groom and he mouthed "later" to her. She shook her head and turned back to Kreacher and Tonks who were arguing about what kind of flowers she should have in her bridal bouquet.

Once Father Steve was revived with another large glass of brandy, the wedding party arranged itself about the altar. Harry and Hermione stood in front of the vicar while Remus and Tonks were to either side of the smiling couple. Dobby was nearby holding a silk pillow with the transfigured wedding rings resting on it. The excitable elf could barely keep from bouncing up and down, nearly dropping the rings several times. Kreacher meanwhile stood behind his young Mistress fussing over the train of her gown.

"I believe we all know why we're here today," Father Steve said to the small group with a smile. "The two most wondrous duties of a priest's charge are to perform baptisms and weddings. Preferably in the reverse order," he added to laughter from the others. "Now," he continued, "who is here to speak on behalf of the groom?"

"I, Remus John Lupin, am."

"Do you swear that the groom is here of his own volition and that there is nothing that should prevent him from marrying today?" the vicar asked.

"I so swear," Lupin responded with a big smile at Harry.

"And who is here for the bride?"

"I, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, am," Tonks said, rushing over her much hated first name, but still smiling.

"Do you swear that the bride is here of her own volition and there is nothing to prevent her from marrying today?"

"You bet I swear it," said Tonks, her hair turning pink as bubble gum. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Um, good," said Father Steve, hesitantly. "Well, then, Harry, if you would repeat your vows after me."

Harry nodded, his face nearly splitting in half with the biggest smile he'd ever produced as he said, "I, Harry James Potter, do take you, Hermione Jean Granger, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's and Magic's holy laws, and this is my solemn magical vow."

Hermione had tears running down her face as she watched and listened to Harry say those words. She was astonished at how happy he looked to be marrying her. She was shaken from her reverie by the sense that everyone was looking at her expectantly. She then realized that Father Steve had turned to her and was waiting for her to say her own vows. She repeated after the vicar, "I, Hermione Jean Granger, do take you, Harry James Potter, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's and Magic's holy laws, and this is my solemn magical vow." As she spoke these words, she was mesmerized by the light shining behind Harry's green eyes and the fact that his smile got even bigger than before. He was going to hurt himself if he smiled any wider, she thought randomly.

"Now the rings," said the vicar, turning to Dobby who practically jumped forward with them, tears flowing by the gallon from his bulbous eyes. Laughing, the priest took the rings from the pillow and handed the smaller one to Harry. Hermione turned and handed the bouquet of pink roses that Kreacher had conjured back to the old elf, who took them with a tear in his own eye.

"Hermione," Harry said taking her hand, "with this ring I thee wed, with my body and my magic I thee worship, and with all my worldly and otherworldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." With that he slipped the golden band onto her ring finger to nestle up against the jeweled engagement ring already there.

Father Steve handed Hermione the other ring and nodded to her. "Harry," she said with tears of happiness nearly as big as Dobby's spilling from her brown eyes. "With this ring I thee wed," she said, repeating the rest of his words verbatim. She finished with a heartfelt "Amen" as she pushed the ring on his finger.

"Amen!" shouted the two elves to the amusement of all the others.

"By the power vested in me by Her Royal Majesty the Queen, the Communion of the Church of England, and the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you husband and wife, legally and magically bonded for life," pronounced Father Steve with a broad smile. "You may now kiss the bride!" he added with a wink to Harry.

"F**k!" shouted Tonks pulling her wand just as Harry was leaning in to kiss his new wife. "Remus, the Registry!"

"Oh crap! I didn't think of that!" Remus shouted.

"I can't apparate," exclaimed Tonks, her hair turning deep purple. "They must have wards up already!"

"Everyone get under cover," Remus shouted grabbing a very confused Harry and Father Steve and pulling them behind a pew while Tonks pushed Hermione to the other side of the aisle.

"What's going on?" screeched the young bride, pulling away from Tonks' grip and refusing to budge. She'd been expecting her first kiss as a married woman, not yet another life-or-death crisis.

"All marriages are automatically entered into the Registry at the Ministry," said Remus hurriedly, grabbing Harry by the arm when he tried to get up and go to Hermione.

"And now Death Eaters control the Ministry!" hissed Tonks. "They're sure to have put a trace on your names in all the official records!" Just then they heard the cracking sounds of multiple apparations from the churchyard.

"Harry!" Hermione's desperate cry pulled him from Remus' grip as they rushed to each other and stood back to back, wands and spares out.

Remus turned to the cowering vicar and put his wand in his face. "Forgive me Father," he said.

"Wh…what are you…?" the priest stammered.

"_Imperio!_" intoned Lupin. "You will tell anyone who asks that we forced you to perform the ceremony against your wishes. Tell them we used the Imperius curse on you. It will be the truth." The dazed vicar nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," he said, understanding what Remus had done for him before he fainted away yet again, negating the need for Lupin to stun him.

The church doors slammed open and half a dozen Death Eaters burst in, curses flying from their wands. Harry threw up a shield while Hermione fired back at them. Tonks and Remus also began sending spells from their positions. Chaos reigned in the small church with exploding pews and shattering stained glass everywhere. Dobby and Kreacher jumped in front of Harry and Hermione shouting, "You must not harm Master and Mistress Potter!" The Death Eaters were thrown like dolls against the back wall of the church by the elves' magic, but were soon replaced by even more Death Eaters coming through the doors. Hermione shouted and pushed Harry down behind the baptismal font when Ministry Enforcers began pouring into the side doors.

"Dora, watch out!" shouted Remus when he saw that his wife's back was turned to the newcomers. She was too busy deflecting curses from the front to defend herself from behind. Her eyes suddenly grew wide and her hair turned pure white when she was hit in the back with a purple flamelike curse. "No!" screamed Lupin. He tried to rush to his stricken wife, but was pinned down by a flurry of curses. "Harry! Hermione! Get Dora out of here!"

Just then the large font that the bride and groom were hiding behind exploded in a rain of dust and stone. Grabbing Hermione's hand, Harry pulled her through the rubble towards Tonks, both shooting spells in every direction. Dobby and Kreacher provided cover while the couple dragged the comatose former Auror behind another pew. Harry heard a growl and turned to look at Remus. Their former professor's eyes were yellow and hair was sprouting from his face, his teeth becoming long and sharp. It wasn't a full moon, but Harry understood that, whether by his own volition or not, in his desperation Remus was releasing the demon wolf within.

"Get her out!" Moony half growled, half shouted as his clothes began ripping away from his bulging fur-covered muscles.

"Dobby! Kreacher!" shouted Hermione. "Can you apparate through the wards?"

"Of course, Mistress!" Kreacher said, blasting another three Death Eaters through a window then taking hold of Hermione and Tonks' hands, turning on the spot with a crack. Meanwhile Dobby grabbed Harry's hand. The last thing Harry saw before being sucked through a tube back to Grimmauld Place was Lupin in full werewolf form ripping the arm off of a screaming Death Eater.

Harry and Dobby arrived in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione, her white wedding dress torn and covered with grey dust, had Tonks face down on the table and was cutting open the back of the unconscious woman's blouse with a kitchen knife. "Harry! Get the medi-potions kit out of my beaded bag!" she shouted when she saw him. "Dobby and Kreacher! Go get Remus! Stun him if you have to. Put him in one of the cells in the basement! Let me know if he's hurt. And make sure Father Steve is left someplace safe!" she added before the two elves disapparated.

"I saw it happen," Harry said as he handed his bride the healing potions kit. "It was Dolohov, he used the same curse as he did on you in the Department of Mysteries. The one with the purple color. Do you remember what Madame Pomfrey used to heal you?"

"Yes," she said nodding, giving Harry a concerned look while taking select potions out of the kit and pouring them into a larger container, her hands shaking.

Harry put his hand on hers and said softly, "Don't worry about Dolohov anymore. The last thing I saw was Moony taking care of him." Hermione nodded, and focused herself on Tonks.

Two hours later Harry and Hermione stripped off their tattered clothes and collapsed naked onto their bed. Tonks was in another room, resting as comfortably as could be expected. Hermione was able to counter the worst of the curse and determined that the baby was unharmed. She warned the woman that she would be in pain for several weeks and would have to take ten potions a day for a week. Harry grimaced at that, realizing that Hermione had never complained about her own wound from the same curse a year and a half ago. Meanwhile, Moony was curled up in a cell in the basement, sleeping off a double shot of elvish stupefication spells. Harry was relieved to discover that none of the blood coating the werewolf's fur was Lupin's. It all belonged to Death Eaters and Ministry Enforcers. Dobby and Kreacher had been thanked profusely and were left, at their own insistence, to clean up the kitchen.

"Can't we ever do anything the easy way?" Harry laughed, completely exhausted.

"That would be boring, wouldn't it?" Hermione responded with a weak chuckle.

"Happy wedding day, Mrs. Potter," Harry said quietly, turning his head to look at his new bride. Her brown hair was long and bushy again. He wondered absently when that had happened.

"Happy wedding day, Mr. Potter," Hermione replied with a sigh, her brown eyes looking deeply into his green. She reached over to hold Harry's hand. They were both asleep before either could say another word.

A few moments later Kreacher slipped through the door and magicked them under the bedcovers before picking up their ruined wedding clothes from the floor. "Happy wedding day, Master and Mistress," he murmured as he quietly left the room, turning out the light with a wave of his gnarled hand.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N#1: I will not make apologies for the long delay in getting this next chapter out. Life inevitably happens. I will, however, assure my readers that I will continue this story through to the end I envisioned so long ago when I started it. In fact, this story started with the first and last chapters well-formed in my mind. It's all the middle ones that are taking time to get put down. I promise you that as long as I am alive, in possession of reasonable mental faculties, and the internet and fanfiction dog org still exist, "Oblivious" will not be abandoned. Since it's been so long, I encourage you to re-read the story from the beginning. Or at least go back to Chapter 10 and read the brief synopis there and the chapters since._

_A/N#2: Standard disclaimers about the ownership, copyrights, and works of fan-fiction all still apply. As others have said before me, I am only playing with characters and a world created and owned by another. I expect no, nor am I seeking any, financial gain for my, perhaps misguided wordplay. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 13**

Nymphadora Lupin née Tonks groaned with displeasure as a bright light penetrated her eyelids and shattered her warm, happy dreams of cuddling with a very cute puppy. Throwing a hand over her eyes, she squinted through the gaps in her fingers to see a young, bushy haired woman balancing a tray in one hand while waving a wand with the other to open the drapes. Confused for a moment, Tonks slowly realized that she was in a room in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. She groaned a second time and pulled the covers over her face when she realized that Hermione's tray held several potions bottles.

"Time for your morning potions," the younger woman said softly with a sympathetic smile. She knew what the former auror was going through, having suffered from the same curse cast by Death Eater Antonin Dolohov a year and a half earlier. Thanks to Lupin, Dolohov wouldn't be using that nasty curse ever again. Recovery from the dark spell was slow and painful, but thankfully, eventually mostly complete. Hermione only had a thin pink scar across her chest and she rarely felt any pain anymore, except for an occasional twinge when the weather changed. She set the tray down on the nightstand and pulled the blanket off Tonks' head. "I can always just force it down your throat," she said with a mock fierce expression, holding her wand up threateningly.

"Merlin woman," Tonks moaned in complaint. "You're just as evil as Madame Pomfrey. Have you ever thought of a career in the healing arts?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Hermione forced a smile. "Are you feeling any better today?" she asked, concern written on her face, as Tonks winced and gasped audibly while pushing herself up to a sitting position. Three days had passed since the fight at the church in Godric's Hollow. Tonks had only been conscious since the previous afternoon, and even then she'd been barely aware of her surroundings. That first evening after arriving at Grimmauld place she'd woken briefly and anxiously quizzed Harry and Hermione about everything that happened at the church. Only when she was assured that her husband, the baby she was carrying, the elves, and the newlyweds were all OK, had she collapsed into painful, but welcome oblivion for the next forty-eight hours.

"Define better," Tonks grunted, settling her tender back carefully against the pillows that Hermione stacked up for her against the headboard. She took the first of the many potions phials that her friend held out to her and scrunched up her face at the smell. "Just like Pomfrey," she muttered as she held her nose and swallowed it in one go, then reached for the next, wanting to get it all over with as quickly as possible. Her hair turned a disgusting shade of green.

Hermione laughed humorlessly. "I'll take your mood as a good sign, Remus warned me you weren't a morning person." After looking the older woman in the face for a few moments, she began busying herself with straightening out the bed covers and assorted items on the dresser.

"Blech!" Tonks whinged once again, finishing the last dose and grabbing desperately at the large glass of water that Hermione offered. Settling back after rinsing the foul tastes from her mouth, she watched the young bride as she puttered around the room distractedly. "What's up, girlfriend?" she asked.

Hermione looked out the window contemplatively for a few moments before responding. "It's Harry," she said softly.

"Uh oh, trouble in paradise?" Tonks said. Seeing the tightlipped, stony expression on Hermione's face, she decided to change tactics. "I know you're not having problems in bed. I mean, you two were at it for hours last night, then again this morning for another couple of hours. Merlin, I thought Wolfie had stamina!"

"What!" Hermione sputtered, turning to look at Tonks with wide eyes. The older woman smiled, pleased at having evoked a response from her unusually morose young friend.

"Oh, I know you put silencing charms up," she smiled, "and thanks for that by the way. But your room is right next door to mine," she added indicating the adjoining wall behind her head. "Let's just say, you might want to move your bed into the middle of the room, or at least put a cushioning charm on this wall."

Hermione looked at the wall, then covering her mouth and turning beet red, she looked back at Tonks, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Maybe some reinforcing spells, too," Tonks continued, deciding to push it even further. "I mean, there were a few times this morning that I thought the two of you were going to come right through the wall and join me in my bed."

"Oh, you…!" sputtered Hermione, finally realizing she was being teased. The two young women laughed until it caused too much pain in Tonks' still raw wound.

"Speaking of Wolfie," Tonks said after they had settled down a bit. "How and where is that husband of mine?"

"As to where, he's downstairs talking with Harry and Mr. Weasley," Hermione replied, sitting on the foot of Tonks' bed. "As to how he is," she said after a pause. "Physically, he's okay. His partial transformation is generally worn off now. At least the fangs and claws are gone. He is still a bit hairy, and his eyes are kind of yellow, and his voice a might gruff….though that's all fading, too."

"I sense a but…," Tonks said worried.

"Well, he's not in the best of moods," Hermione said carefully.

"He hasn't hurt anyone, has he?" Tonks asked fearfully, knowing how temperamental the werewolf could get in the days leading up to a transformation.

"Oh no, nothing like that!" Hermione responded reassuringly. "No, it's just that he's somewhat of an emotional mess. He's worried about you and the baby. He's confused about transforming without a full moon. He's frightened about losing control and potentially hurting people. On top of that, I think he feels guilty…about you getting hurt and just about everything else that happened. He even apologized for 'ruining' our wedding!" Hermione paused before chuckling humorlessly, "Frankly, he's behaving a lot like Harry does. Thinking all things are his fault and his responsibility."

"That's what we get for marrying sensitive blokes," Tonks said with a smile, reaching out to hold Hermione's hand. "They are two of the most powerful men, each in their own way, yet they are also the most brave, caring and…and feeling of men. Sometimes it drives me crazy. But we love them, don't we?"

Hermione nodded, then said thoughtfully, "I suppose if they weren't like that, they wouldn't be Harry Potter and Remus Lupin…they'd be Tom Riddle and Fenrir Greyback." Both women shuddered at that thought.

"Well," Tonks finally broke the pensive silence. "Arthur will talk some sense into Wolfie, and maybe do some good for Harry, too. He's a levelheaded man."

Hermione nodded, her thoughts turning from their husbands to the Weasley patriarch. In the time since returning to Grimmauld Place from Prewett Manor, they had begun to allow Arthur, alone amongst their captive Order members, a modicum of freedom in the house. He wasn't allowed a wand, and he made a magical oath not to try to leave without permission or to free any of the others. He refused a room of his own, preferring to sleep in the basement cell across from his wife. He spent much of the day talking to her, trying to convince her that Dumbledore had been wrong for what they had done to Harry and Hermione. He had hopes that she was coming around. Hermione still had serious doubts, but was further convinced of Mr. Weasley's good intentions. He was a good man, if anyone could talk sense into Remus, or Harry for that matter, it would be Arthur Weasley.

Tonks interrupted Hermione's thoughts once again. "Getting back to you and Harry, you never answered my question. What's wrong, girlfriend? What's Harry done this time to have you all glum looking?"

"It's not his fault, really," Hermione said. "It's just this whole bloody situation. The prophecy. Tom Riddle after him. Dumbledore and the Order mucking about with his mind, and his life. It's driving me crazy with worry. I don't know how he can take it. Sometimes I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Other times I want to grab him and run as far away as we can from all the danger and insanity. Yet still he goes on, wanting to fight the good fight."

"You didn't mention it," Tonks said squeezing Hermione's hand, "but I know for a fact that you've been right by his side facing the danger and helping him through all of the insanity as you call it." Hermione nodded reluctantly. The thought of being anywhere but at Harry's side never entered her mind, nor would it ever. "Honestly, Hermione, with what you two have been through, I'm surprised the both of you aren't sharing a room on the mental ward at St. Mungo's."

Hermione smiled at the truth of the comment. "Harry is a man of action," she said. "This morning he wanted to go running off to Hogwarts to look for anything Professor Dumbledore might have left behind regarding destroying horcruxes. He can't stand sitting around waiting for things to happen. He wants to make them happen. After all we've been through, I thought he would be more agreeable to a little planning before acting."

"Did you two fight?"

"Not really," Hermione replied. "It was more of a heated discussion. I did get him to postpone going until we could discuss things with everyone. Part of me is relieved he saw some sense. Another part of me is feeling guilty for arguing with him."

"Like you said, Harry's a man of action. You, on the other hand, while no slouch in the action department, are primarily a thinker and planner. At least he's listening to you now, instead of just rushing off half-cocked. From what I saw before you went to Godric's Hollow, Harry appreciates how good a team you two make. You balance each other out, both in weaknesses and strengths."

Hermione smiled at Tonks and brushed her curly hair out of her eyes, tying it in a loose knot behind her head. She idly wondered once again why it had grown back after the fight at the church. Harry thought it had something to do with stress. She was meaning to cut it short again, but just hadn't found the time. Reining in her stray thoughts to the discussion at hand, Hermione admitted her deep-seated fear, "I just don't want him to think I'm manipulating him. He's had enough of that in his life. But I also want him to see reason."

"I know I've only been married two months longer than you two, but I have been part of teams in both the Auror Corps and the Order of the Phoenix for a lot longer than that. Marriage, like other forms of teamwork, involves compromise," Tonks said sagely. "You both have to give and take to make it successful." Hermione nodded at the advice, feeling somewhat better. "With a passionate guy like Harry, my advice to you, Hermione," Tonks summed up, "is to remain flexible."

Harry chose that moment to walk into the bedroom. Having only heard Tonks' last sentence, he immediately commented, "I'll have you know, Tonks, that my wife is very flexible. In fact," he continued with a cheeky grin, "did you know that Hermione can put her feet behind her…"

"Harry!" squealed Hermione, cutting her husband off and turning deep red in the face again.

Remus entered the room only a few steps behind Harry. "Did someone mention flexibility?" he asked. "Having a limber body is a great advantage. It gives you more stamina for wand work and helps the magic flow more freely." Tonks guffawed loudly while Hermione put her face in her hands muttering curses under her breath.

Arthur came into the room next and looked around at the various expressions on everyone's face with some confusion. "What are we talking about?" he asked innocently.

"Hermione's flexibility," chorused Harry, Remus, and Tonks together.

"Really?!" Mr. Weasley said brightly. "You may not believe it to look at her, but Molly's really flexible, too. Did you know," he said conspiratorially, "that she can put her feet behind her…"

"Enough!" shouted Hermione shrilly, jumping up from the bed to emphasize that she wanted to hear no more about the topic. "Remus, you go to the library and write down everything you know, or even suspect about the protections on Hogwarts," she ordered forcefully. "Arthur, you go interrogate Mr. Shacklebolt about what he knows about horcruxes and how Professor Dumbledore planned on getting rid of them. Tonks, you just shut up and get some rest."

"I love it when she takes charge," Harry whispered to a surprised Remus.

"Harry!" Hermione commanded, "You go to our room and wait for me there." Harry smiled, recognizing the smoldering look in his wife's eyes. He'd seen that look many times during their stay at the inn in Shere. He liked what it foretold.

"Everyone meet back here in two hours and we'll start planning for Harry's and my visit to Hogwarts,"

"Yes, Hermione," the men all shouted, snapping to attention and rushing out of the room, leaving the two women alone.

"Don't forget about reinforcing the wall," Tonks smirked as Hermione started out the door. The young witch turned, and with a devilish smile of her own, waved her wand. Tonks screamed the other's name when the walls, ceiling, bedcovers, and even her nightgown were all emblazoned with giant glowing letters spelling out "Property of Nymphadora."

* * *

><p>Severus Snape strode purposefully across what was formerly the office of Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore. Pausing at the door, the latest headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry turned his hook-nosed, permanently scowling face back to look at the portrait of his former superior.<p>

Dumbledore's image leaned forward with a stern, yet questioning gaze. "Severus?"

"I will honor my oaths, Albus," Snape snapped at the painting in answer to the painting's query. Pulling his wand, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself before sweeping down the spiral staircase, his black robes swirling and billowing about him like the wings of a bat. Because of the charm, anyone watching would have seen nothing more than a fluttering shadow. Only the gargoyle guarding the stairs heard him mutter under his breath, "_All_ of my oaths."

The shadow that was Snape slipped easily past the two Death Eaters stationed at the front door of the castle without arousing an alarm. Being headmaster had its privileges and what he must do this night, he must do alone, without the eyes of his other master's spies watching. It was a cold, moonless night, unusually cold even for the first of October in the highlands of Scotland. The Dark Lord's servants at Hogwarts didn't see the small clouds of Snape's breath in the darkness outside the castle.

If those spies had truly been paying attention, they would have noticed when, moments later, the branches of the Whomping Willow across the grounds briefly ceased moving and a shadow slid into the gap in the tree's roots.

After a few minutes passage through a dank tunnel and up a set of creaking stairs, the shadow paused at the door to a room in the Shrieking Shack. Inside, two young people sat on a dusty bed, their heads close together as they held a quiet conversation, looking down at a piece of folded parchment on their laps. Snape watched them for a moment before undoing the charm on himself. He stood tall and swept into the dingy room, robes billowing and wand menacingly aimed at the couple.

"I expected this level of stupidity from you, Potter, but I thought that Miss Granger would know better," he snarled at the youths, who, maddeningly didn't even show surprise or fear at his sudden appearance. "Did you not think that I would monitor all entrances to Hogwarts, especially this one?"

"Actually, we counted on it, Professor," Harry said with a small smile, causing Snape's scowl to deepen. The arrogant upstart calmly folded the parchment and put it in his pocket as he talked.

"And it isn't Miss Granger anymore," his insufferable companion added with a broadening smile and a wave of her left hand. "It's Mrs. Potter now."

Snape's face was granite as he stared at her silently for several long seconds, then the corner of his right eye began twitching. "I presume you've regained your memories and have are once again acting out your foolish teenage romance novel fantasies, Potter."

"Don't hate me because, unlike you, I was lucky enough to marry my best friend," Harry said quietly. Snape turned sharply from glaring at Hermione to look at him.

"Why are you here?" he hissed, again pointing his wand at Harry. "Do you have a death wish? Have you come to surrender to the Dark Lord? I only have to say his name and he'll be here within moments. He will take great pleasure in forcing you to watch as he tortures your ...wife...," the greasy haired man spat. "Do not think he will spare any humiliation. Others of his followers will gladly join in the depravity, making perverse use of her as they see fit. Is that what you want for her? For yourself, Potter?"

"Sev," Harry said softly, swallowing back the fear and disgust that the other man's threatening words brought to his throat.

"You dare?!"

"I mean no disrespect," Harry said, his voice hitching only a little at the angry red face of his once hated potions professor and tormentor. "It's what my mother once called you, isn't it? It might have been what I called you if you had remained the close friends you once were."

"Be quiet!" Snape bellowed in a rage. "Do not...!" he stopped abruptly, the veins on his forehead threatening to burst. He struggled, sputtering, to regain his self-control. "Do not," he repeated with a deathly calm voice after a few moments. "Do not speak of things that cannot be undone."

"But there are certain things that _can_ be undone, Professor," Hermione said with a quavering voice, belying the fear she was trying so hard to quell. This confrontation had seemed so less frightening while they were planning it in the comfort of their home in the days since their disastrous wedding night. She swallowed and forged ahead. "We know you've been helping Harry all along. That's why we're here, to ask your help again, your help in the undoing of some of those things."

"What…_things_?" Snape said looking at the young woman with such intensity that she thought she might be fatally pierced by his gaze.

"Horcruxes," Harry replied, voice just above a whisper.

Snape stepped back as if that word had carried a sharp blow. His dark, beady eyes shifted back and forth between the two teens who now stood holding hands in front of him, looking back at him with pleading eyes. Soft brown eyes on the one and bright green eyes on the other, familiar eyes that pulled at his past with such heart-rending, yet uplifting emotions. He recalled the oaths he had sworn in the name of the woman who also had eyes like that. Suddenly Snape lowered his wand and chuckled, breaking into a true smile. The teens gaped at him in confusion, never having even imagined that his scowling visage was capable of such an expression.

"This is not going at all like Albus wanted," he sniggered.

"We're no longer following Dumbledore's Plan," replied Hermione boldly.

"Obviously," he said, the smile still lingering on the corner of his lips. "As he would be quite put out to discover." Snape turned and walked over to the window, gazing through the filthy pane at the lights of Hogsmeade twinkling in the cold night across the valley. "There are many who are loyal to him even after his death. Members of the Order who would stop at nothing to bring you back onto the path he envisioned for you."

"We know," Harry said sadly. "We've ...encountered... some of them."

"How about you, Professor?" Hermione asked gently, stepping next to him and touching his arm. He looked down at her hand, pale and small against the black sleeve of his robes, an understated set of rings on the third finger. Then he looked up into her youthful, still quite innocent face.

"I?" he said, the scowl returning as he shook off her touch.. "I am bound by many oaths, Mrs. Potter…to more than one master. It would be dangerous to trust me."

"You didn't answer Hermione's question, Headmaster," Harry noted, using Snape's proper title for the first time.

The hint of a smile returned to the man's mouth. "Magical oaths are complicated. The wording is of utmost importance. I've learned to... exploit the exact language to circumvent the intent."

"To do what is right?" asked Harry.

"What is it you wish of me?" Snape asked brusquely.

"Two of Tom Riddle's horcruxes have been destroyed," Hermione said. "The diary by Harry in our second year and the ring by Professor Dumbledore last year. We have a third, Slytherin's locket. We need your help to destroy it."

"Headmaster Dumbledore was fatally wounded in the act of destroying that accursed ring," Snape said evenly. "What makes you think you can survive what the greatest wizard since Merlin himself could not?"

"Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, but he was also human," Hermione said quietly. "He made mistakes. Even he admitted as much to Harry, several times in fact." Snape looked at the young woman, realizing how much had changed for her to question the actions and decisions of the former Headmaster. This, more than any one thing, tipped the scales in his decision to assist them.

"Then you should have this," he said, putting a hand in his cloak and pulling out a ragged lump of leather.

"The Sorting Hat?" questioned Hermione, a look of recognition followed by utter confusion on her face.

"The Sword of Gryffindor!" exclaimed Harry, stepping forward and reaching for the hat, only to find the new Headmaster snatching it out of reach. "What…?"

"Dumbledore left it to you in his will, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "but Scrimgeour wouldn't let you have it!" She remembered their rather nasty encounter with the now deceased Minister for Magic on Harry's birthday, what seemed like ages ago.

"The Headmaster anticipated the Ministry's reluctance to part with such a valuable artifact," Snape said. "He did not wish for you to receive the Sword for several months yet. He foresaw, or rather planned, certain events that the delivery of the Sword to your hands would resolve. Given your presence here, and the recovery of your memories, I do believe those events will no longer happen according to his plan."

"With the Sword of Gryffindor we can destroy the locket?" Harry asked, excited, but confused.

"It is a goblin-made blade," responded their former potions instructor as if that explained everything, increasing Harry's confusion.

"Of course!" exclaimed Hermione slapping her forehead after only a moment's contemplation. "Goblin weapons are infused with protective magic! They resist what would destroy normal blades by absorbing that which makes them stronger!" She said the latter as if reciting from a book she read, which Harry had no doubt she was. He was still confused. Seeing the blank look on her husband's face, Hermione asked patiently, "Harry, what did you use to destroy Riddle's diary?"

"A basilisk fang," he replied. It had been the daring hope of obtaining another fang that brought them to Hogwarts this night.

"And what did you use to kill the basilisk?" she asked, trying to lead him to make the conclusions she herself had made in the fraction of a second.

"The Sword of Gryffindor," said Harry slowly, his green eyes starting to light up with understanding. He turned to Snape and asked, "And you think that it absorbed enough basilisk's poison or dark magic or whatever that it can now destroy the horcrux?"

"I do not think," said Snape with barely disguised impatience, "I know."

"Dumbledore used it to destroy the ring!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Very good, Miss Gr…Mrs. Potter."

"What are we waiting for?" shouted Harry reaching once more for the Sorting Hat, only to have it snatched out of his grasp yet again. He looked at Snape with growing anger.

"As I said earlier," Snape responded as if talking to a particularly dense child, "I am bound by many oaths. I cannot allow you to have the Sword at this time, Mr. Potter. However," he said turning to Hermione, "in time of need, the Sword of Gryffindor will come to _any_ worthy member of his House at Hogwarts."

"Me?!" said Hermione in a tone of disbelief and awe. She gasped when she saw a bejeweled hilt appear inside the hat Snape held out toward her. With a shaking hand, she reached out to grasp it. As if reassured by the solid reality of the sword's hilt in her hand, Hermione quickly and boldly pulled the entire length of the blade from the hat and stared at it. She didn't even notice as Harry reached into the beaded bag hanging from her waist and pulled out the warded box containing Slytherin's locket.

"You want me to do it here?" she asked when she finally saw what her husband was holding out.

"Better here than home," Harry said. "No one will wonder about magical backlash or odd noises in the Shrieking Shack." Hermione slowly nodded and Harry opened the box. All three felt the very salient presence of evil as he took the locket out of the warded container and set it on the floor. Snape hissed and took several steps backwards, away from the defiled object. He was quite familiar enough with the Dark Lord's aura to know that the piece of his soul anchored to the locket was angry.

"What do you want me to…" Hermione started to ask, but cut off in surprise as the locket opened on its own. Inside, instead of pictures, were the images of glowing red eyes with slits for pupils. The eyes darted around the room, pausing at each of those present, and stopping when they came to Hermione holding the Sword in shaking hands.

"_So_," came a hissing voice that seemed to surround them and vibrate in their chests, "_a filthy Mudblood dares to challenge the Great Lord Voldemort!_" The statement was followed by the most chilling laughter the young woman ever heard. She was forced to take a single step back as a billow of black mist erupted from the open locket. Harry and Snape were thrown roughly against the wall and pinned there. Hermione could see that the professor and her husband were shouting, but all she heard was the howling of wind and the voice from the locket that permeated her very being.

"_I know your heart, Hermione Granger. The only child of parents who never wanted children. The insufferable know-it-all who could only make friends if she bought them off by doing their homework. The ugly little girl with the foolish hope of ever being wanted by a real man. The Muggle with aspirations to fit into a magical world where you don't belong. I know your fears, you weak pretender."_

The black mist cleared somewhat and out of the locket flowed a silvery substance that coalesced on the floor into the form of a supine body. Hermione gasped and took another step back as she recognized it as an image of Harry. His clothes were torn and burned. His limbs lay askance, as if broken. Worse of all was the vacant stare in his eyes. Out of Harry's body rose a bluish form she immediately identified as a ghost, Harry's ghost. It turned to her and spoke.

"_Why Hermione? Why couldn't you save me? I trusted you. I needed you. But you failed me. Why?"_

Hermione sobbed as the ghost held its hands out to her, pleading. "No...," she wailed, letting the tip of the sword drop to the floor in front of her.

"_My soul is gone forever, Hermione. Voldemort took it and banned it from ever moving on. I shall never know peace because of you."_

She closed her eyes from the horrible sight, wanting to be able to close her ears to the accusations as easily. A moment of silence and she heard other voices. Opening her eyes and blinking away the tears, she now saw that in front of Harry's body and ghost stood the silvery forms of two other, older people.

"_We are so disappointed in you," _said the image of her mother.

"_How could you be such a failure?" _her father continued shaking his head. "_We let you go into the magical world because we knew you'd never succeed in real life. It was our last hope for you to fit in anywhere."_

"_But you failed us yet again. You're a failure as a daughter," _her mother said.

"_A failure as both a human and a witch,"_ her father said.

"_A failure as a friend,"_ added Harry's ghost, "_and as a lover and wife."_

"_Such a failure,"_ all three intoned angrily.

"_How could we ever love such a disappointing child," _scoffed her parents. "_We are so much better off now without having you around, without even having memories of your failures anymore."_

"_How foolish are you, Hermione?"_ asked Harry's ghost. "_Did you really believe I could love you? That I could desire such an irritating bitch? You were good for doing my homework and a bit of fun in the sack. Even then,"_ he sneered, shaking his ghostly head_, "I had to keep from retching every time I kissed you or had to look at your pathetically ugly body."_

Pinned to the wall, the real Harry saw and heard everything. He kept shouting to Hermione that none of it was true, but knew that his wife couldn't hear him. Snape also shouted, "Close your mind! He's reading your thoughts! He's playing on your fears. Try to keep him out!"

Hermione fell to her knees, the Sword of Gryffindor clattering to the floor beside her. She bent over, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders slumped.

Suddenly, Hermione lurched to her feet. She grabbed the sword as she rose, holding it in front of her purposefully. She strode right through the insubstantial figures of Harry and her parents. Raising the sword, she forcefully brought the sharp edge down on the locket. Riddle's voice screamed its anger and pain. Hermione began chopping at the locket. With each swing the screaming became more distant until, with a final gust of wind and flash of light that banished the misty forms forever, the room became silent.

Harry and Snape fell to the floor. They first looked at each other, then at Hermione. She was standing over the horcrux, looking down at it. Harry got up and stepped toward her. "Hermione," he said quietly, reaching out to touch her shaking back.

She turned and Harry was surprised to see that she wasn't weeping. Rather, she was shaking with laughter. She jumped up and gave Harry a tight hug, still laughing heartily and spinning him around in circles. Harry looked over her shoulder at Snape, who seemed as baffled as he. Both men suspected this was some form of reaction to the shock.

"Dumbledore was right," Hermione said once she had recovered enough to speak.

"How so?" queried Harry, leaning back to look at her face.

"Tom Riddle really doesn't understand love, does he?" she said. "He took my nagging fears and tried to use them against me."

"He is a master of manipulation," said Snape, rising from the floor and brushing his robes off.

"Yes, but I'm well aware of my own insecurities and have made some semblance of peace with them," she said with a laugh to both men. "Besides, I do know what love is. Even if all my failures and self-doubts were to be true, I still know that my parents love me no matter what." She grinned broadly, looking into Harry's eyes, "And after seventeen first kisses and a combined total of seventy six obliviations, I have no doubt that what you and I have is real love."


End file.
